Why is it so hard to get?

If I say 'Yes' it means I want it. Yes, I do!

I remember the very first time we went out.

- Do you want to kiss me?

- Perhaps.

- Do you want to go to bed with me?

- Possibly.

- I'm not a rapist...

and you waited until I said yes. Later things would've progressed to something more. Until one day we broke up. I was disappointed. The way it happened made it feel as if this had no meaning at all for you. It was amidst a life-crisis when the rest of my world was collapsing. I wanted to finish it all off on my own terms, but my plan, or lack thereof just made things worse.

I come to your place. I strip naked and cry in the shower. You find me all shattered and bring me to your room.

(As I have no recollection of the events I'm here filling the gaps with what could've been said).

- Do you want to have sex?

- That's not why I came to see you.

- Why is it then?

- I'm here on a mission, but I've failed. All I needed to do was this pilgrimage, but I've failed...

We're here in your room, dimmed lights. I'm naked, you're not. You're sober. I'm drunk.

You see I'm blind drunk. You see I can't even walk. You let me stay at yours because it's hard to make me go downstairs and take me home and walk the three flights of stairs up to mine. So here I am. Naked. You watch as I spiral downwards after a lot of whiskey has whisked my thoughts. I fall asleep on your bed. You've finished your duties for the night. You come to find me spread all over your mattress. I'm out of this world. You try pushing me aside and get just about enough space to fit under the duvet. You find yourself aroused. It's been difficult for you with me naked there. Erections have come and gone now a few times in the span of just a couple of hours. You decide to jerk it off. Half asleep and still sozzled I wrap my legs around your body. You touch me. You finish. We sleep.

A new day is dawning and the first thing I see is I'm again in your bed. I feel weary. Guilty? You say everything is fine. You say I was an idiot. I tell you I'm sorry. Now you tell me how you found me at your doorstep unable to even recognise you. Then seeing as I'm naked, I ask you if we had sex. You say no. You go out and make me tea. As you're downstairs I realise this stickiness and moist I always felt after a sexy time with you, and the smell. When you come back I ask you again.

-Can you please tell me if we did it? It's important for me to know. You say ‘No’. Then I look at you and you say it was only a jerk off and nothing else. I look you in the eye and ask if I was involved in any way. You say again, 'no'.

-Ok, can you explain why I smell like we did something?

Now you tell me how I wrapped my legs around you and you touched me.

We're now in the car as you drive me home. My head is all fuzzy and I wish I hadn't drunk that much, but it's too late now. I tried talking about it, you said nothing 'strange' happened. We're good to be friends now.

After some time and a full run on articles about consent I feel bad. You said you wouldn't harm me or force me, but that subtle line between the 'yes' and the 'no' makes me uncomfortable.

I didn't say ‘no’. But I didn't say ‘yes’. I was unconscious for the best part of it! I want to trust you for old times’ sake: for all those days you rejected me regardless of me being naked and willing or when you stopped yourself mid-shag because it didn’t seem right to go on. I thought I could trust your good will. I don't think you meant for this to happen, but I also know that it only takes a good human to do nothing for something horrible to take place. I'm sorry. I know it's all the rotten system screaming at you "That woman's body is all yours!"

I tried talking about it, you said nothing 'strange' happened. I'm saddened that you don't see what I see. I'm saddened because if a good human like yourself can't see why this is wrong it means we're still far away from the safe place I want to live in. I don't know what else to say or do. Until then, my only request is for you and everyone to wait until you hear a sound 'yes' for response.

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Dear Reader, I am swamped. I am fit to burst. I am simultaneously expanding and contracting. I am still here. There is a lot that life is throwing, and for now, Warrior Women is on the back burner. Bu