Seriously. He was a wonderful communicator. He wanted to get to know me. He wanted to know everything about me, my past experiences and what I wanted. What had gone right in my previous masochistic relations, and what had gone wrong because he didn’t want to repeat any mistakes. He wanted to know of any triggers and past abuse. He said it was very important that I felt comfortable and safe with him. We talked. And talked. And fucking talked some more. He talked through every single detail until I joked that he was going to suck nearly all the excitement out of the experience.
But that made him safe, didn’t it? His understanding. The fact that I considered him a “friend.” He was a nice guy. I felt comfortable with him because he wasn’t necessarily the greatest looking guy in the world. He was just an average, reasonable guy. We’d known each other for months. We talked about what our first time would entail and what it wouldn’t entail for two weeks. We met beforehand. All systems go. All the details were nailed down. There shouldn’t have been any surprises.
Only there were.
He didn’t follow the plan from the minute I walked in the door. Once I got to his place behind closed doors, what we had discussed down to the detail . . . well . . . it did not resemble reality.
He went further. He went much further.
It was my first time. I didn’t speak up during the scene. Because I wasn’t sure if what he was doing was wrong. Because he was being so nice when he was doing what I told him I didn’t want him to do, it didn’t necessarily feel like my consent was being violated. I couldn’t even say that I felt threatened. But the simple fact of the matter is that he went much further than we had previously discussed. The problem I was having with it was that he was nice and a friend, so I felt guilty telling him that he wasn’t being nice or a friend.
(And yes. I take responsibility. Before you jump my ass and say, "Well, you should have spoken up!" No shit, Sherlock. I was a first timer. Sue me. It fucking happens. A lot. Until you know better, you don’t. When you do, you don’t let that shit happen anymore.)
And the funny thing was that when I talked to him later about it . . . when it set in that he veered so far off course . . . when I told him that we wouldn’t be having any encore performances and why . . . he suddenly wasn’t so nice anymore. He said to me deadpan, “I gave you exactly what you needed.”
“Um. Excuse me?” I asked.
He repeated, “It could have been much worse. The situations you are going to put yourself in are dangerous for a woman. You will get hurt. You needed to understand what could happen if you were with someone much more dangerous than I am.”
And then he told me he wanted to be in a relationship with me. Something along the lines of: “Stop looking for this with other men. I’m what’s best for you. You will be safe.” Oh, and he also went on to tell me that we wouldn’t be doing things as rough as I liked. Cause that’s not what I really needed or wanted.
I won’t go into the details how the rest of that relationship went. I think you can fill in the blanks. But it involves me running away like the fucking wind.
Did this guy think he was predatory or dangerous? Hell no. He was genuinely surprised that I was upset. Despite acknowledging that he had, in fact, completely deviated from the plan we had decided on.
Then he got angry. Quite nasty, actually.
When I didn’t back down, only then did he get apologetic. Let’s face it: He wasn’t sorry he’d gone too far; he was sorry he got called on it.
But I learned an important lesson. The obvious douche bags are easy to spot. So are the obvious creepers . . . the predators. It’s that “oh-he's-soooo-nice!" guy that presents a different challenge. You gotta peel back some layers on that one.
If you know me at all on here, you know I write. A lot. I sometimes write things that make other people uncomfortable. I share uncomfortable truths and desires. Some of it is truth, some of it's truth-based, and some of it is complete fiction. Which is which? It’s a fuzzy line, and I’m not giving you any definitive answers. It's more fun for us that way. But that’s why I’m here: I like to write and read other people’s stuff. I am brutally honest about things that make other people uncomfortable. More than that, I'm brutally honest with myself. And I realize that with that kind of sharing opens a flood gate to the types of responses I receive. Most are positive and supportive. Some are not. I’m okay with that. I've got relatively thick skin. In the end, I write for me. And I'm not going to tell you what I think you think I should be feeling. That would be short changing us both.
But there’s another kind of attention I get. I get an awful lot of messages from “nice guys.”
You see, one might believe from my writings that I’m a wounded bird. Something that’s broken or needs to be fixed by that extra special guy. That guy that’s going to understand all my fucked-up-ed-ness and make it all better. Let’s face it, a girl like me doesn't really want to do all this fucked up shit, right? I just haven’t met that right guy that's gonna give me that peaceful, easy feeling . . .
Here’s some commonalities I see:
They overly ingratiate themselves to you. They give a lot of praise. They tell you you’re smart. They tell you you’re talented. They go on and on about your physical attractiveness.
They want to know everything about you. They try to and are extremely interested in getting you to open up to them about painful experiences.
They give a lot of advice. They want you to lean on them. They are all-knowing. They have so much wisdom they wish to impart on you.
They tell you constantly that you deserve to be treated well or better. They tell you how well they would treat you if you were theirs.
If they see that you are interacting with other men that they perceive to be competition for your attention, they warn you against them and tell you they fear for your well-being and safety.
Their attention makes you feel smothered. They want to be in contact all the time and know what you’re doing and thinking.
There will always be a sexual undertone. Though they may assure you that they just want to be your friend, they make it very clear that they are sexually attracted to you. So much so that it makes you uncomfortable.
They tell you they know what you need. And many times when you try to explain that it doesn’t match what you know you need and want--as a grown-ass woman that has been inhabiting your body for all your fucking life – they devalue your opinion because you’re, well, broken.
When you meet them in person, they encroach on your personal space. However, they’ll tell you that if you are uncomfortable to let them know. That they will respect your “no.” But when you do tell them you are not interested in them that way, they will continue to push you towards a physical relationship.
They are the first ones to jump in to provide a shoulder and comfort when or if they hear that you have had a bad experience with someone else. They will offer support, comfort, and advice. All the while, pushing their own sexual agenda.
When you try to implement boundaries or create distance with them, they tell you that you are pushing them away because you are afraid of a real and trust-based relationship with a “nice guy.” Again – you are a wounded bird, so you don’t have the stability to know what’s best for you: Them. Never mind that you’ve told them over and over again that you are not attracted to them.
I find these types equally disturbing as the “You’re hot. I want you to suck my cock” guys. If not more. At least the latter amuses me.
With that said, just so we are Crystal Fucking Clear:
Just because you’ve read my writing, does not mean you know me or have a deep understanding of me. What I wrote a month ago, a week ago, a day ago, or a minute ago, does not define me. I'm changing all the time. Shit, some of my stories happened 20 to 30 years ago. You are interacting with an online persona. The purpose of this profile is to serve as a place to share writing and to read others. Interacting with me online is not the same as interacting with me in real life. You’ve barely scratched the surface. You do not know me. And yes-- even if we've messaged a few times.
You do not have the slightest idea of what I need. I am not interested in your psychoanalysis of me. And for fuck’s sake, the quickest way to get your ass blocked is to tell me what YOU think I need. When it comes to my personal well-being, I don't take advice from random people on the internet whose main interest is to fuck me. Dude, you’re on a kink site for the purpose of getting laid. You’re the last person I’m going to open up and shoot my load off to. That's what my best friends are for.
If I am interested in you sexually, you will know it. Believe me. There will be no doubt in your mind. I am not subtle. A shrinking, shy violet, I am not.
Am I saying that nice men with good intentions don’t exist? Absolutely not. I’ve met plenty here that are genuinely fine people. I consider them friends and I love interacting with them. But they do not cross boundaries.
So, again. Repeat after me: I am not saying that nice men do not exist. I am not saying that just because someone gives you attention, is nice, or demonstrates some of the characteristics mentioned above that he is a predator. Seriously, Dude. Repeat this part to yourself over and over again before exerting the energy to type it in as a comment below. We know and feel your pain.
I even think that these predatory nice guys really do believe they have the best of intentions. But that’s where the danger lies: When you don’t believe what you are doing is making me uncomfortable or question me when I'm trying to establish boundaries with you, you are potentially dangerous to me.
If you make me uncomfortable/If you cross my boundaries/If I start getting the Ick factor from you, I will no longer be polite to you just because you’re nice. From here on out, I go with my gut. Not you.
A common theme coming in from the "nice guys" in the comments section: Am I this guy? Oh God. I don't want to be this guy!
My two cents: If you're worried that you've made someone uncomfortable and you find yourself concerned over their well being. . . I don't think you have anything to worry about. That's the stuff that the real nice guys ask themselves. I didn't mean to cause you nice guys any more anxiety; you're already so hard on yourselves as it is.
If you've done some of this in the past, you're recognizing it, and you're genuinely interested in looking into yourself, being aware and changing it, I think that's admirable.
None of us are perfect. I'm certainly not. I haven't approached every relationship in the most perfect way. We can only try to work on ourselves, eh?
I don't claim to know you or have all the answers.
If this post raises your hackles, and you feel yourself getting angry or defensive? You may want to ask yourself why.