Saying "no"
If you guys thought you were getting Patagonia this post, sorry to burst your digital bubble.
I’ve been teeming over something that happened to me and I feel like a good number of women can relate, although it may be trigger subject for some.
DISCLAIMER: I am going to be talking about sexual harassment and consent in this post. So if this is a trigger for you, please read (or do not read) at your discretion.
If you’re a guy—and the above does not apply—and think this does not interest or pertain to you: you should still continue reading.
Whether you are male or female—or gender neutral/fluid/etc—we all know someone or are someone who has been sexually harassed, assaulted, or had unwanted advances made upon them.
I’m one of the “lucky ones,” I suppose, in the sense that my experiences are limited to sexual harassment and unwanted advances. I cannot begin to fathom the experiences of those who have been sexually assaulted and I’m not going to try to. I will only speak for myself and what I have experienced and am currently feeling.
I was asked the other month—after an experience in Patagonia where I met this girl and could tell she didn’t like me— if I had more guy friends than girl friends. That maybe girls just didn’t like me as much. That they were maybe intimidated or threatened by my personality. It took me a moment to think about, but then I was 100% certain: no, I definitely have way more girl friends than guy friends. I wasn’t sure why that was at the time. I get along with guys great—at least I think I do.
But then something happened last month week that made me realize why.
I was out with a friend for Sunday Funday, along with her friends—half of whom I had met before. Over the course of the day—and many drinks—people started to head back home until it was just me, Dan, David, and David’s girl, Becca*. I never got any inclination throughout the day that either of them were remotely interested in me, and the feeling was mutual.
*Note: All names have been altered for privacy.
Side bar:
I also now have this habit that if I talk about anything sex/sexually related, that I state, “Please do not read into this. I’m not flirting, and I am telling you this because I been told in the past that me being open about these things misconstrues intentions and people think I’m flirting.” And I’m not kidding that I say almost exactly that. I’m a scientific person. I don’t think talking about sex has to be sexual. If I talk about sex, I’m just talking about sex. If I get asked a question, I’m going to answer it honestly. It under no circumstances means I am interested in you. Reasons I now have a disclaimer.
So while certain topics may have arisen 4-5 hrs earlier when we all first arrived, I interjected this disclaimer twice mid-discussion so nothing would be misconstrued. With verbal confirmation, it seemed everyone was clear.
Anyways….
It’s about 6 hrs after I originally showed up for Sunday Funday, and by this point I am fucking ravenous with hunger and chugging water like I’ve been in the Sahara desert for weeks rationing my water. And as with any hungry person, I start complaining to anyone with ears that, “I’m starving.”
So, Dan tells me, “we will get food,” that he has a great slow cooker meal at his house, and that we will go as soon as he finishes his drink.
I’m pretty much a whiny, little bitch at this point, TBH. I don’t get hangry, I get really annoyingly pitiful that I don’t have food and am like a little helpless puppy, but without the mastery of the puppy dog eyes.
I consider the proposition and agree. Dan is cool. I get along with him great. Nothing has been said or done that has made me feel uncomfortable. There’s no attraction—not to say he isn’t good looking, he’s just not my cup of tea—and there seems to be only platonic feelings.
Finally we leave and as we are walking down the street warning bells go off in my head. It registers, “I’m going to a guys house willingly. This could be misconstrued. I better make things clear.”
So I say something along the lines of, “I just want to make sure that you know that I’m just hungry and that me going to your house is not to be interpreted as anything else except that I’m hungry and want food. Nothing is going to happen.”
“Of course. No worries,” Dan says.*
*This may not be exactly what he said, but his response conveyed that he registered what I said and that my intentions were clear to him.
Cool. I’m immediately at ease again.
So, we get to his place. He makes a bowl of food for himself and me, and he puts on music. Sinatra, I think?
And then it happens…
He grabs my hand and starts trying to get me to dance with him. But not in a drunk, Beyonce “Single Ladies” kind of way. He’s trying to get me to slow dance with him. The way you would dance with your date at a wedding. The way I interpret you dance with people you like. A way that I did not feel comfortable dancing with him.
So, there are one of two scenarios I go with when I feel uncomfortable:
I get in my head and withdraw
or….
I become awkward af.
In this dilemma, I of course went option 2: awkward af.
Rather than get up and go with the flow and dance, I sat in my chair and refused to budge. “I don’t, under any circumstances, dance,” I told him. “I’m a terrible dancer,” I continued—making any excuse to disengage.
Truth is, I’m really not much of a dancer—especially slow dancing. I slow danced with a guy once in 2006 at his prom, and I was just as uncomfortable then. However, I was his date.
Finally, he pulls me to my feet, and I just freeze: refusing to move despite his—what some girls may consider cute—attempts.
He was close: too close for me to feel comfortable with someone I considered a friend. I felt on edge.
I didn’t want this, and I didn’t want any sort of friendly gesture to now exacerbate the situation at hand.
Please Note:
He was not being untoward in any way. I do not think he was intentionally making me uncomfortable. I do not think he is a terrible guy in any way. However, he did ignore my previous sentiments—perhaps thinking I wanted to be chased. Which is understandable to a degree. I feel that some media portrays girls as wanting to be chased. But I’m just making inferences here, I don’t actually know. I have little knowledge as to how the male mind works—despite what memes tell us about the male brain.
So, at some point within the next 1-3 minutes, I broke away and did the worst possible dancing I could muster—aka my normal sober dancing— but to a slow song. Two rhythms that did not go together.
I stopped dancing.
He was still too close. Staring too intently.
I think at this point I tried to take a step back, but there was a wall behind me. So, I just kept looking down, avoiding his gaze, trying to joke things off. I may—I’m not quite sure TBH—have even said, again at this point, that I wasn’t into dancing. I’m not sure what excuse I said after that but what he said next, I remember word for word. I remember, his face being too close to mine—inches away, despite me looking down to the side at the floor—and him saying, “I can’t just stand here and not try to kiss you.”
[INSERT BIGGEST FACEPALM EVER]
Like I said, perhaps this all would have been very cute had I been into him—but I wasn’t. This situation was exactly what I was trying to avoid after I initially agreed to go. It’s why I made sure to state my intentions before we arrived. And because of that, it wasn’t cute. It was painfully and awkwardly uncomfortable for me.
At that point I made it quite clear that I was sorry, that I wasn’t interested in him in that way, and that I wasn’t going to allow him to kiss me. I continued to explain that I was pretty much the most emotionally unavailable/fucked up person he could possibly bring home—this is somewhat accurate in my opinion—and any other excuse I could think of to explain why I wasn’t going to kiss him.
Looking back, I really didn’t need to give any reason except I didn’t want to. I can’t remember if he asked why or not—my gut feeling is he did but I’m not 100% certain—but I felt a need to explain. However, we should never have to explain why we refuse consent.
Things were fine after that. He didn’t try to touch me again or get too close...or say anything that would have made me remotely uncomfortable previously. However, what just occurred had already made me extremely uneasy and anxious. So, I continued to joke and talk for about 30-45 more minutes until I felt like I could exit without being rude or making it seem that I was uneasy.
And that was it. Nothing untoward happened. He, eventually, listened to me and backed off when I said no...again.
So why am I even talking about this? Nothing happened.
Because something did happen. I made my intentions clear when we left the bar. He confirmed that he did not misinterpret me going as a sign of interest in him or that something was going to happen. I had also stated throughout the afternoon and evening that I wasn’t flirting or interested in anyone at the table, and I received confirmation that I was understood. And yet, still, all these words were ignored, as well as my refusal to dance and undoubtedly my body language.
This entire situation could have been avoided if he had just listened to me—and respected what I said— the first time. I told him I wasn’t interested from the beginning, yet I still ended up in a position where, for a bit, I felt trapped. I felt like prey that could not escape. A mouse in the cross-hairs of a cat.
As I said, I still like Dan. I still consider him a friend, and I will still hang out with him—although I may never hang out with him alone again.
This event made me realize why I’m not friends with a lot of guys: I feel that most guys aren’t interested in being friends with me—whether misguided or not. What they are interested in is dating me or sleeping with me.
And this is not an isolated incident. This isn’t the first time my voice has been ignored.
I moved to Denver in the summer of 2016. After a few days of searching Craigslist, I ended up choosing to move in with a guy for the first time in my life. He was both my roommate and my landlord. I liked my roommate/landlord. I considered him a friend. I use to think of him as one of the nicest people you could meet; however, he was not respectful.
So what do I mean that he was nice but not respectful?
He was nice in the sense he was giving and he was kind when speaking of people: even people who had hurt him. But mostly because he helped me with a lot of car issues (he fixed cars) and refused to take any form of payment. (In hindsight I believe that there could have been ulterior motives, which you can decide for yourself as you continue reading.)
However, he also did things that were too nice—things that bothered me—like making me breakfast and bringing it up to my room with the whole spread but without even asking me first if I even wanted breakfast. This annoyed me more than I can express. It actually made me a little angry at times because I told him he didn’t need to make me breakfast—the politest way I could phrase it—after the first time, but he still did it. I don’t know about you, but I never just made my roommate breakfast without asking if they wanted some first. If I was making breakfast, I would usually ask them or tell them to please help themselves if I made a large dish. I wouldn’t bring them breakfast in bed. But being raised in the south, manners dictate that you eat the food someone brings you whether you asked for it or not.
The main issue I had, however, was that he would CONSTANTLY make comments about the shape and physique of my body in a way that was sexual and objectifying and made me
uncomfortable. Or telling me—once while helping me in the midst of a panic attack—that I should give him a chance. IN THE MIDDLE OF A FUCKING PANIC ATTACK! One time he even took the liberty of smacking my butt while I was cleaning dishes, saying it looked good. I HAVE NEVER IN MY FUCKING LIFE HAD SOMEONE DO THAT WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.
I never spoke up about his comments about my body or the time he smacked my butt. However, each and every time he told me I was “a beautiful woman” and that I should “give him a chance,” I responded that I was not interested in him and that I didn’t think of him that way—aka NO. Yet it still persisted. It wasn’t everyday, or every week by any means, but it continued to happen often enough that after 1 year I considered moving because it made me so uncomfortable. And remember, he was also my landlord.
Moving is such a pain in the fucking ass though. I lived in a great area for a very affordable price. And I told myself, “it’s not that bad….” That was, at least, not until I brought a guy over...
Eventually I did move, and within 24 hrs because I was so uncomfortable with a situation that arose with him. I was too scared to stay a moment longer and luckily I had a great friend help me get out in one day and let me stay at her place. I would get into this story more, but it’s quite long winded and not as pertinent to the focus of this post.
Finally, one of the last times he told me—yet again—that I “should give [him] a chance,” I spelled it out for him in no uncertain terms. I expressed to him that I have repeatedly told him I was not interested in him in that way and the fact that he kept asking made me very uncomfortable. He apologized and said he would keep his thoughts to himself.
But why did it take that long to respect my rebuffs? Why is it that the first 35+ “No’s” didn’t register? Why did I have to repeat myself? Why was my voice ignored?
WHYYYY is this not an isolated incident…?
Questions I’ll never know
Again, situations like these are why I have trouble being friends with guys. It’s why I’m hesitant to hang out with a guy alone. It’s why I will no longer live with just 1 guy (I have no problem however if there is a third roommate of any gender.)
Writing and reflecting on these experiences has helped me see how men have broken the sanctity of our friendships by ignoring my "no." And unfortunately, this has made it difficult for me to build friendships with guys at times because I am so apprehensive. I don’t trust them to respect the friendship.
I sometimes have trouble being myself with new guys one on one, as I don’t want my enthusiasm or friendliness to be misinterpreted. I hold myself back from being me, unless I’m 100% certain. But even then, I am human and thus bound to make mistakes.
There have been a couple of instances in the past, where I thought I was in the safe “friendzone” with friends of ex-bfs—who for years I considered just a friend—or a friend’s ex-bf. But at the end of a fun filled night, they try to kiss me or say something that makes me uneasy.
Why do these things make me feel this way?
Because I will never think of them in those terms. Because I have to reject their advances. And usually, after I draw that line, they seemingly fade away for the most part. And I suppose I understand: I’m no longer a potential mate.
On a different, but similar note:
The other week my sister was in town with her bf and a bunch of friends, both from in and out of state. Most were in relationships. At one point, all the girls went out shopping and I hung with the guys.
And you know what? It was fucking amazing.
Why? Because I never felt uncomfortable once.
I was viewed as a new friend and not a potential mate. I don’t know their actual thoughts, but I would venture to say they did not objectify me. They simply saw me as a person, not the opposite gender—if that makes any sense at all.
I think I’ve taken for granted occurrences like this in the past .
Like I said, I’m emotionally fucked up. I’ve tried dating, but I never feel anything. It’s very rare I have a “crush” on someone. That last person I had a crush on? A guy I saw for 2 months in 2015. Not to say I wasn’t attracted to Asshole from New Years (See previous post on why I went to Patagonia), but that was more of a sexual attraction. I didn’t have a crush on Asshole when I met him. I really didn’t care for him to be honest. But then he made a move one night and I discovered there was a lot of sexual chemistry. And let’s be frank, we all enjoy great sex.
But end of that….back to the point.
It’s a very—very—rare occurrence that I’m attracted to someone. I don’t know why: it just is what it is. I wish I was attracted to more men.I meet a lot of cool people, but they are only interested in taking me on dates and I don’t want that. Maybe “a lot” is an exaggeration. I don’t feel it happens that often, but I’m often oblivious to flirting.
I’m not quite sure what my whole point is anymore.
Don’t hit on me if you’re a guy? [not that any men are actually reading this]. Don’t make an assumption that I “like” you because I’m nice to you...or joke with you? I’m simply a friendly person. I like people. I like getting to know people. I enjoy learning their story. The fact that we all have such vastly diverse experiences fascinates me.
But the main thing is, if I say no, do not continue to pursue or pressure me—or anyone else for that matter!
If someone’s made it clear that they are not interested in you: BELIEVE THEM!
For me, if I’m backing away from you or clearly saying/displaying that I’m not interested, I’m not interested! I’m not trying to be coy. I’m shy or inhibited—I’m anything but if you know me. You’re not going to change my mind by continuing to chase me or pressure me. Instead, you’re just going to make me feel threatened and anxious.
I know these experiences may not seem like a big deal in the grand scheme of horrific things that have happened to people—but for me it is.
I hate more than anything else that men—not all—cannot listen to my intentions or wants the first time. It’s not easy for me to be the awkward person that has to reject people or spell stuff “out just in case.” But when I do, FUCKING LISTEN!
To my actual guy friends that have never made me uncomfortable, thank you. I don’t think I fully appreciated that until now.
For anyone that didn’t have someone who immediately, or eventually, respect their wishes, I’m sorry. I know it's not my fault, and it's not yours either. But I’m sorry you weren’t respected. I’m sorry you weren’t listened to. I’m sorry that you were placed in that situation by someone—whether stranger or friend. I’m sorry that they dismissed your no—be it verbal or physical.
I’m just sorry.
Our words should both be respected and believed the first time we say no.
Rant ended.
