They sputtered in haste to explain this plot twist in what had been a relatively stable narrative. “But you’ve always liked women.” “But you play sports and fix things.” “But you have a deep voice and wear workmen boots.” “But you eat lots of food and fart and —”
The croaking throats, rushing to the aid of my heterosexual side, were almost comical — it was all in my head! But my brain just pleaded with me, “Please, don’t go there.” A desperate chorus of old men and silly boys.
I took his virginity. And it was fine—until I realized that this virgin might be my only one-night stand of 2014. (I was casually seeing someone else at the time.) So, to rectify matters, I went out again on New Year’s Day, and went home with a random guy I met at a bar.My pocket buzzed. Where are you?
I thumbed back. Slowly. North Quad. Come find me :)I was staring at a petite pink butt while laughter erupted around me.
A band had just finished performing and several members opted to moon the crowd from the stage. One of the members, a theater guy, had drawn arrows on his ass cheeks pointing inwards with the words “insert here.” I didn’t know him, but when he turned around and grinned at the audience, I smiled back. About a week later, when I first worked up the courage to consider that I might enjoy jerking off to a guy, I didn’t picture Tom; I pictured this guy, with the arrows on his small pink butt.
Now that I was open to the idea that I was attracted to men, I wondered which ones. I found this theater guy attractive, which made me realize that I didn’t really find Tom attractive. Had I been so keen to break through my own heterosexual socialization that I had actually ignored my own “natural” impulses with Tom? But aren’t our impulses socialized and conditioned, too? Was there anything natural about my desire that I could cling to? How could it be so hard to know whom I wanted?
I started to feel like I had used Tom or he had used me or somehow it was all wrong. Soon, a babble of voices started to crowd out my attempts to reason this out.
Did you even want to sleep with Tom because you were genuinely interested in him — aroused by him — or just as a way to explore something? Tom probably knew this — he was taking advantage of you! Yes, you attracted the attention, put yourself in that situation, but you didn’t pursue him. He texted you. He brought you to his room.
I felt myself slipping into somebody else’s story of sexual violence, a victim, and I put my sunglasses back on and I marched to the gate that separates the North Quad from the real world.
But then I stopped and watched. Armies of men, clumsily draped over women’s shoulders, leading them somewhere.March 28, 2014
Daily Beast writer Olivia Nuzzi shares an experience of Uber harassment: “At the end of the ride, the Uber driver asked me if I had been near Lincoln Center a few hours earlier. I said I hadn’t, since I didn’t remember walking past there. Then he took out his iPad. ‘Really?’ he asked. ‘Because you look like this girl.’ He turned the iPad around to face the back seat. To my surprise, I saw a full-length, close-up picture of me, wearing the workout clothes I’d had on an hour previously.” Her piece also reveals flaws in Uber’s privacy system, including the fact that drivers can see passengers’ full names.
April 28, 2014
They sputtered in haste to explain this plot twist in what had been a relatively stable narrative. “But you’ve always liked women.” “But you play sports and fix things.” “But you have a deep voice and wear workmen boots.” “But you eat lots of food and fart and —”
The croaking throats, rushing to the aid of my heterosexual side, were almost comical — it was all in my head! But my brain just pleaded with me, “Please, don’t go there.” A desperate chorus of old men and silly boys.
I took his virginity. And it was fine—until I realized that this virgin might be my only one-night stand of 2014. (I was casually seeing someone else at the time.) So, to rectify matters, I went out again on New Year’s Day, and went home with a random guy I met at a bar.My pocket buzzed. Where are you?
I thumbed back. Slowly. North Quad. Come find me :)I was staring at a petite pink butt while laughter erupted around me.
A band had just finished performing and several members opted to moon the crowd from the stage. One of the members, a theater guy, had drawn arrows on his ass cheeks pointing inwards with the words “insert here.” I didn’t know him, but when he turned around and grinned at the audience, I smiled back. About a week later, when I first worked up the courage to consider that I might enjoy jerking off to a guy, I didn’t picture Tom; I pictured this guy, with the arrows on his small pink butt.
Now that I was open to the idea that I was attracted to men, I wondered which ones. I found this theater guy attractive, which made me realize that I didn’t really find Tom attractive. Had I been so keen to break through my own heterosexual socialization that I had actually ignored my own “natural” impulses with Tom? But aren’t our impulses socialized and conditioned, too? Was there anything natural about my desire that I could cling to? How could it be so hard to know whom I wanted?
I started to feel like I had used Tom or he had used me or somehow it was all wrong. Soon, a babble of voices started to crowd out my attempts to reason this out.
Did you even want to sleep with Tom because you were genuinely interested in him — aroused by him — or just as a way to explore something? Tom probably knew this — he was taking advantage of you! Yes, you attracted the attention, put yourself in that situation, but you didn’t pursue him. He texted you. He brought you to his room.
I felt myself slipping into somebody else’s story of sexual violence, a victim, and I put my sunglasses back on and I marched to the gate that separates the North Quad from the real world.
But then I stopped and watched. Armies of men, clumsily draped over women’s shoulders, leading them somewhere.March 28, 2014
Daily Beast writer Olivia Nuzzi shares an experience of Uber harassment: “At the end of the ride, the Uber driver asked me if I had been near Lincoln Center a few hours earlier. I said I hadn’t, since I didn’t remember walking past there. Then he took out his iPad. ‘Really?’ he asked. ‘Because you look like this girl.’ He turned the iPad around to face the back seat. To my surprise, I saw a full-length, close-up picture of me, wearing the workout clothes I’d had on an hour previously.” Her piece also reveals flaws in Uber’s privacy system, including the fact that drivers can see passengers’ full names.
April 28, 2014
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