Writing by Jessica Stone // Photograph by Sofy Brinister
* This is not addressed to every heterosexual male, just the ones who don’t understand boundaries and human decency.
Writing by Jessica Stone // Photograph by Sofy Brinister
Slapping someone’s arse without permission does not make you a “savage”, “cool”, a “beast”, or a “badass”: you’re just an ass. If I want you to, I will happily let you know with my words.
My tight skinny jeans are…
My v-neck t-shirt is…
My eyeliner and mascara are…
My constant and sometimes uncontrollable laughter is…
My smile is…
My banter or joking around with you is…
My alcohol and/or weed choices are…
My going to a school-functioned movie with you is…
My hanging out with you after practice is…
My sitting close to you because that’s the only seat on the couch is…
My eye contact is…
My agreeing to pizza & Netflix is…
NOT me asking for you to slap my arse, grab my arse, wrap your hands around my waist, grind with me, invade my personal space, touch me, attempt to kiss me, tell me you want to fuck me.
They are me enjoying myself. Plain and simple. To do anything above, you need to ASK FOR PERMISSION. But, if you need to hear my explanations again…
I wear tight skinny jeans… because I appreciate my curves, not because I want you to admire my arse in them.
I wear my v-neck t-shirt… because it’s a comfy shirt, not because I want you to think I’m wearing it for your admiration of my chest. I’m finally comfortable in my own skin—why are you sending back to my 8th grade insecure self?
I wear eyeliner and mascara… because I feel awake and put-together (I have a lazy eye and mascara disguises it), not for your visual pleasure.
My constant and sometimes uncontrollable laughter occurs… because I love to laugh, not because I find you absolutely hilarious and want to laugh at everything you say as a subtle hint that I want you. That is a false tactic—you probably need to do some homework on how people actually flirt.
I smile… because why not—there are so many things to be happy about, even though you’d probably disagree. Also, smiling improves one’s mood. Maybe you should try it? That scowl isn’t getting you anywhere.
I engage in banter or joking around with you… because it’s enjoyable and humor is engaging, not because I’m sending you a subtle hint that I want to screw.
I choose alcohol and/or weed… because I enjoy it and sometimes want a Moscow Mule, not because I want to get drunk/high and have sex with you. * It also doesn’t make me “easy.” Easy is a heinous term, and you know that.
I hang out with you after practice… because we’re teammates and we have common ground, not because I think we are good together outside our sport and it’s some form of foreplay. Who doesn’t want to commiserate over high scores and unlucky shots?
I sit close to you because that’s the only seat on the couch… and I want to be comfortable, not because I want to sit as close to you as possible without mounting you in front of our friends.
I maintain eye contact… because I’m learning and need to keep practicing, not because I’m giving you those eyes.
I agree to pizza & Netflix… because we both like a show and we both were bored, not because I am suggesting “Netflix and Chill,” which is a dumb concept anyway.
But then again, why am I explaining myself to you? It’s not a requirement of our friendship or an addendum to my taking up space. But thanks to you and many others like you, I feel the constant need to explain myself as protection from and defense against your verbal, physical, and emotional advances that are both unwanted and unwarranted. Women and girls have to explain and defend themselves to others multiple times a day—why don’t you have to?
* This is not addressed to every heterosexual male, just the ones who don’t understand boundaries and human decency.
