#MeToo. Date Raped. Again.

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About a week after I published my #MeToo blog, I was date raped. I imagine some activists hate the term “date rape,” as it somehow softens the violation.

But in this case, this term feels good and accurate for me to use.

This was a Tinder date gone wrong. The day-long texting and the first two hours of the date were fantastic. We were both loving it and feeling potential for actually dating. It’s rare that I meet a man as sex-positive and communicative as this one seemed to be. He also spoke at length about his respect for women, his emotional availability and his sexual deference to his partner’s pleasure.

When we started to make out it was amazing… and then, it wasn’t. But it didn’t end violently and I didn’t even process what had happened until I woke up the next morning feeling gross and distraught. I decided to write it out to see if I could purge the feeling out of my system. I didn’t know that I would send it to anyone, but then suddenly it felt very important to send it.

This is what I texted him the next day and posted on Facebook:

Let me tell you about why muggles suck sometimes. I went on a first date last night. Things were going extremely well. This man was very sex-positive, naturally polyamorous in many ways, he raved about how respectful he was of women and what a giver he was. Essentially he claimed that he could never be turned on unless his partner were pleased (this brings up some tantric red flags for me, but it’s not a horrible trait). He also spoke a lot about how important emotional connection and communication were to him.

There was a lot of chemistry happening. He was asking for a second date already. Neither of us wanted the date to end. We talked in depth about sexual preferences and desires. I spoke to how giving a man oral sex is very intimate for me because it’s a deep devotional act. I love it, and for me, it is more intimate than intercourse, so it’s not something I do casually. He seems to understand.

I’m wavering a little bit on what we do next. I am staying a few blocks away… do I invite him? Do we go on a walk? I’m not sure if I can meet up tomorrow and I’m only here for two more days. I’m also tired. I’ve disclosed to him that I have a cold and my energy is kind of low and if he comes over it might literally be to cuddle. He again makes a declaration, that he’s only happy if I am. I say okay, let’s take a walk and I’ll see how I feel about the rest.

The walk is great, he’s a sweet, smart gentleman. We get to the house. We start kissing on the couch. It’s delicious. I’m so enjoying it. He’s then kissing my breasts…that’s great. A while later, we are working our way toward my panties, and that is still awesome. My panties come off, he then stands up and takes off all his clothes… I think to myself… hmmm, that’s interesting… I wonder why…

I look up to him smiling with his dick about two feet from my face, standing over me as I lay on the couch.

Oh really, I think. I guess he forgot what I said about oral sex. I remind him, the right words come out of his mouth, but his energy changes a bit… like that was his best porno sex move and it just got rejected. But he’s sweet about it and we go back to kissing. Things are getting a bit cumbersome on the couch, so I suggest we move to the bed.

On the way to the bed, he asks me if I have any condoms. I’m a little taken aback and reply “Why yes I do, but I don’t know that there will be any intercourse happening, so let’s not worry about that quite yet.”

On the bed, things are cool for a few minutes, but then he starts rubbing his dick on my yoni. I pull back and stop and say… hey, I don’t do genital to genital contact without having a talk first. So, I stop everything and have a safer sex conversation. That goes well and so we continue with that, but I specifically say, “Do not try to enter me.”

A few minutes past, things are intensifying…and what do you know… he slides in with gusto… no condom… he gets 2 strokes in before I say… hey, we need to stop, you aren’t listening, I said no intercourse. Things get a little awkward, and I can’t remember exactly what I said, but we then keep making out a little but the energy has shifted, he feels energetically distant, but he keeps rubbing his own dick trying to get it hard.

I say… look things feel a little off to me, this feels too goal-oriented to me and in my world I am used to making out for hours without intercourse, it also seems like oral sex is really important to you and that just isn’t going to happen tonight and I’m not sure why you are so concerned with making your dick hard right now.

Since he enjoys communication a lot, we then delve into at least 20 minutes of processing what just went down. I listen, I try not to be defensive. He explains that essentially because he is “so good” to women, that I “made him feel dirty” when I pointed out that he was doing things I didn’t like. He instructs me on how I could have done it better by in a sexy flirty voice directing him to do other things to me sexually, or just saying in a soft voice “hey can we talk.”

I am getting that he really felt like shit, I have empathy for that… and the other part of me is like… WHAT?! I say look, yes there is a part of me that is very experienced and sex-positive and the other part is a girl here who is dealing with the “uh oh” feeling of not wanting your dick inside her and needing to say something immediately. Word choice and tone that would protect your ego, are not high on my priority list.

We talk more about teaching. At dinner when he said, teach me everything (about Tantra, etc.). I told him how that was sweet, and that was a challenging dynamic for me in relationship. I am always the teacher, the coach. I do enjoy that role a lot, but it’s not the best entryway into dating with me because I want to be met, or led, rather than do all the leading.

This topic comes up again now, and again he’s instructing me on how I could have talked to him better as not to break the mood, that I could have been a better teacher or leader. That a good teacher would never make their student feel bad for messing up. For him, I had irrevocably killed the mood. Reflecting on it now… I think you entered me condom-less without permission, and I was still able to recover and keep the sensual flow… I wonder, does your dick have to be rock hard for you to be “in the mood?”

I explain a bit about Tantra and how I often teach people to follow the waves of pleasure and not to get freaked out if the energy is dropping, to stay curious and connected and ride the waves. Now, I know that dick hardness is a thing and that losing an erection is a more visceral thing than having a vagina that is dry or not turned on. I also know that thank god, in the Tantra community, hard cocks are not the only thing we care about.

He says I made him feel like I was on one level and he was on another. In the moment, I feel shitty about that. I said I probably could have done a better job explaining what was going on for me….

Wait, what? Am I apologizing for speaking boundaries? I want to bring up rape culture and consent and really go at him, but I know that in this moment, he can’t hear me. He hasn’t been hearing me all night. He’s a talker. He talks a lot about how much he respects and adores women. I do believe that he mostly does, or at least that he fully believes that about himself. But if you can’t really listen to a woman and take her words to heart, no matter how hard your cock is…well, my friend you have a lot of work to do and, no, I don’t want to be your teacher.

I woke up first thing this morning to write this. To try to get that icky feeling out of my system. I’m so grateful I have the skills that I do. Many other people would have been fully date raped in this situation (or perhaps some consider that I was). At the very least, I recognize how deeply woven rape culture is in the way men and women communicate, even when they have good intentions. For a minute there, he really had me thinking I had done something wrong. And that is just crazy and sad. Never again.

I am about to send him this… I’m nervous. I think his self image of being a “good guy that is devoted to and protective of all women” is so strong, that he won’t be able to take it in

Here is the text conversation that followed:

The aftermath

What followed was an intense day of unraveling the emotional layers not only of the rape, but also everyone’s responses and opinions on what I should do.

All of a sudden, I had an acute awareness and massive new empathy for women who out their abusers and rapists online. The ones that pursue justice, do so at a huge cost. I was imagining how intense it was for me and my experience was honestly not that traumatic. It’s about 72 hours later now, and I feel fine.

Imagining women who have been violently raped and tortured and then having to deal with everyone’s responses and projections, not to mention the ass backwards criminal justice system.

Several women insisted that I report this to the police. I haven’t yet, but I am considering it. It seems that starting a paper trail on a man that seems to have quite delusional thinking about rapey encounters could be helpful down the line.

And, it seems like a lot. And, I do have empathy for this man, who for better or worse, was raised in a culture where most men are taught that “no” means “keep trying, she’ll eventually give in.”

I also think about how traditionally the victims of sexual assault are blamed, which let’s be clear, certainly includes men, trans, and gender-fluid people. I think that even now, in 2017, some people will read my story and think, “well, what did you expect, you barely knew the guy and you got naked with him.” Ugh. After I posted, I did have a few doses of shame enter my body, but they quickly passed as I reminded myself I did nothing wrong.

Hey, we all know hookup culture is a thing nowadays. And honestly, it’s not much my thing. I like depth, I don’t often do casual sex. I can handle some casual make outs… but intercourse? That’s pretty rare. I’m so grateful for the people in my life that can make out for days without intercourse. It is an important skill.

And, I feel very protective of everyone’s right to have sex as much as they want with whomever they want, if there is mutual consent. If I wanted to be a straight-up Tinder fiend and have sex with a new person every day, I think I should be able to without being shamed or raped.

Since this happened, I have been especially aware that my choiceless choice to come forward was riding on the wave of #metoo empowerment with so many finally speaking out, some in anger, some in sadness, all with bravery. After I wrote my initial #metoo blog, more memories of the traumatic experiences I described resurfaced. After I wrote this, another instance of date rape that I had totally forgotten about resurfaced. I hadn’t anticipated this. I honestly didn’t think much about it when I posted publicly either. And like I said, I certainly wasn’t prepared to handle the number of diverse responses. All of them were well intended, but some did not land well.

Some women were adamant that I “was raped” rather than “almost raped” or “date raped.” I think they are right and that doesn’t feel totally resonant with me. Am I in denial? Do I have too much empathy for muggle men? Maybe, not sure.

Some men are rightfully confused and on edge right now. The #metoo movement has dispensed a tidal wave of hurt, angry and fed up feminine voices. Some men are learning from it by really listening and evaluating their own behavior. Some men are getting extremely defensive. The truth is patriarchy has fucked up both men and women. Men wouldn’t have such a history of misogynistic behavior if it weren’t for the way our culture and government evolved to place them in positions of power, mostly because of religious texts.

When will we learn? Is #metoo the breaking point for cultural evolution? What about #blacklivesmatter? Trump? White supremacist rallies? Terrorism? Inhumane treatment of women globally? Damn, we have a lot on our plate and the battle is far from over. But a huge part of what is needed for any of this to improve is for women’s long-stifled voices to be heard and honored. I’m grateful I see seeds of this blooming and I hope it continues.

An idea came to me about how to address rape culture. It is a controversial idea and would have to be created with much care. I envision a website, something perhaps called www.MyRapist.com. I imagine this a place where anyone (male, female, non-binary) could submit a report of their assault or abuse. In order to publicly post their story and their rapist’s name, they would have to do an intake with a counselor. The counselor would both provide support and do their best to screen for false “revenge” stories.

If all that went well, their story with the rapist’s name would be published. Hopefully with good enough SEO, that anytime this person’s name was Googled, it would come up in the top 5.

Now, the accused rapist would be notified of the posting and have the opportunity to respond. In order to respond publicly, they would have to also do an intake with a counselor and get some education on consent. If they did this, they would be able to respond publicly to the report.

I’m sure there are some more logistics that I’m not addressing here and this system would have to be carefully maintained by professionals in the field. Imagine if some of Weinstein’s famous victims promoted this site? I’m very curious about what the impact may be. I don’t have the bandwidth to create this in my own right now, but if you do, please contact me and I’d be happy to partner with you on the project.

Lastly, let me just say how grateful I am to all of the women who have ever publicly outed their rapist or sought criminal charges. I never realized how much you had to deal with. And let me also honor all of those who chose not to come forward as that is very much your choice to make. And thank you to all the people in my life who showed up with tenderness and support and asked what I needed before dispensing opinions on how I should respond.

Let’s keep speaking up, so we can stop saying #metoo someday.

And by the way, my date rapist name is Eziekel Allen. He lives near Philadelphia, PA and he was an officer in the Marines for many years. You can find him on Tinder. If he would like to share his side of the story, I would definitely consider publishing it.

If he would have apologized, perhaps I wouldn’t post his name. Even if he said, “Wow, this isn’t the way I remember things, but I am so sorry you felt this way” that would have helped. But instead, he gaslighted me and denied it completely, which as an indication of a pretty severe problem, and perhaps a pattern of rapey behavior. So be it. He needs a wake-up call. He did tell me he wanted me to “teach him everything.” Lesson 1, asshole… no means no.

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Lalita Diaz

All stories by: Lalita Diaz