#I was torn between delete and celebrity to which watch first but went with delete

[thasorns-moved]

I went in blind and only read the summary on Netflix, I didn’t have any expectations but surprisingly it has binge worth factor and the twist at the end in the episodes keeps you going and on edge

[archduchessofnowhere]

Hello! <3 When did Franz Joseph cheat on Sisi? I know he had a mistress, but did she know about her? Or am I mistaken? Sorry if you have already talked about this somewhere in the past. Thank you.

Hi! I already touched upon the subject on this ask, but I'll go a bit more on detail on how Sisi may have felt.

In general, women of Elisabeth's status were expected to simply accept their husband's infidelities. Her own mother Ludovika had resignated to be a betrayed wife, and had even been told by her sister Sophie "that she knew many women who had had happy marriages with their unfaithful husbands" (Winkelhofer, 2022). However, it seems Sisi wasn't as forgiving as her mother.

Now, we don't actually know what exactly went down, but in 1860 Elisabeth suddenly left Vienna for Madeira because of a mysterious coughing that wouldn't go away. Today most biographer agree that this illness was actually psychosomatic, a product of the high levels of stress the young empress had go through during the last years. Also, most biographers at least suspect that the final crisis that made Elisabeth want to leave court at once was discovering that her husband was cheating on her. Just to quote one exemple, take her first serious biographer Egon Corti (emphasis by me):

Elizabeth reproached her husband bitterly for not taking her part in everything; but at times she seemed to him too nervous and erratic, and he felt that such an important matter as the education of the Crown Prince was better left in the hands of his mother, who had trained him himself for the throne so carefully. Thus Francis Joseph was torn between his mother, to whom he owed everything, and his wife, whom he loved beyond words; and, moreover, as was only natural, he was also exposed to innumerable temptations from attractive women. The fact that he was not always insensible to these was felt as a slight by his young wife, conscious of her own dazzling beauty. (Corti, 1936)

Martina Winkelhofer also notes that, in the manuscript of his biography, Corti wrote that "Everything around her [Elisabeth] is unbearable; moreover, news has reached her that Franz Joseph has looked too deeply into another woman's eyes" (2022). He deleted this sentences from the published version.

Yet, it is really hard to link Franz Josef to any particular woman, because he was very discreet in his affairs. If he really cheated on her during 1860, we don't know with whom. The only woman we know for sure he had an affair with was Anna Nahowski, an affair that lasted from the end of the 1870s until 1888, but as far as I know she and Elisabeth never met. Impossible to know if the empress was aware of her existence, but I believe she must have at least suspected that her husband wasn't being faithful.

And then there's Katharina Schratt, which I also talked about in the ask I linked. Katharina was an actress in the Burgtheater and Franz Josef's celebrity crush. He watched every play she was in and soon it was known that he had a liking for the actress, but beyond a dinner in which Alexander III of Russia invited actresses of the Burgtheter to accompany them, they never met each other. It was Elisabeth, who aware of the situation, formally introduced her husband to Katharina. Soon they begun to write each other and FJ went from being a fan to a friend, which made Elisabeth happy, since she felt guilty about not being able to give her husband company.

But we don't know if Elisabeth wanted for Katharina to be a mistress, perhaps she expected it and by that point (late 1880s-1890s) she had come to terms with that, or perhaps she encouraged the relationship because she expected that FJ wouldn't cheat on her with Katharina. To quote once again Franz Josef's Valentine's day rejection letter (emphasis by me):

You say that you will control your feelings, I too shall do it, even though it will not always be easy for me, for I will do nothing wrong, I love my wife and do not intend to misuse her confidence and her friendship for you.

I said in my previous ask that this ties with my idea that FJ was only ok with his affairs if they were only physical, but this line also hints at Elisabeth supporting an emotional relationship, perhaps a romantic friendship of sorts, but not a sexual affair. But again: it's hard to know for sure, perhaps FJ was only using her as an excuse to turn down Katharina.

That's all I can say about this, but if I find more information I'll share it. Thank you for your question.

Sources:

Bourgoing, Jean [ed.] (1966). The Incredible Friendship: The Letters of Emperor Franz Joseph to Frau Katharina Schratt (translation by Evabeth Miller Kienast and Robert Rie)

Corti, Egon Caesar Conte (1936). Elizabeth, empress of Austria (translation by Catherine Alison Phillips)

Winkelhofer, Martina (2022). Sissi. La vera storia. Il cammino della giovane imperatrice (translation by Federica Saccucci)

[youarejesting]

Hope in the sheets.7

[Masterlist]

Beta: N/A Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Soft boy, Fluff, SMUT, Friends2Lovers, Words: 4.4k

Summary: You held many titles: his neighbor, colleague, wing-man… well, more likely a wing-woman, yet most importantly, you were his best friend. You had been friends since you were born. Between the two of you, you were younger; barely, but he never let you forget it. He always seemed to ruffle your hair and tease you, which could get rather annoying but he made up for it by treating you to things.

What if a drunken one night stand between you and your best friend Hoseok leads to more complicated situations? Your reckless twenties are cut short as you find yourself suddenly responsible for something a little more.

Warning: mentions a sex tape, mentions a birth tape

[First] [Previous] [Masterlist] [Next]

 “Ah! Ah! Ah!” This videotape felt dirty, Hoseok wasn’t sure why, but he was sweaty, his heart raced, as he tried to look anywhere but at the screen. The woman on the video kept making noises and heaven forbid he look between her legs. Was it warm in here or was it just him?

“As you can see the birth canal opens up wide to let the babies head come down and out and the shoulder here is the widest part, so you have to be careful to listen to your body otherwise you may tear, so here we go these are the final pushes and then the baby will slip out—”

“Hoseok, Hoseok wake up!” You called alarmed, Hoseok opened his eyes to see you and the birth class instructor standing over him.

“Don’t worry love, there is always one in every class who faints” The woman handed over some ice, “Put this behind his neck it will help slow his heart rate, nerves sometimes get the better of the soon to be dads”

Sitting up Hoseok sat up a little embarrassed, “sorry, I didn’t mean to faint”

“No, Hobi, it’s okay I feel nauseous as hell after that video too.  That looks scary as hell I don’t think I can do it” you whined. “This class traumatized me more than it helped, and what do we get a couple of cookies and some watered down juice. 

“You are so strong and I think you can do it?” Hoseok tried to reassure you and you scoffed. 

“If you're so confident you push the baby out.” Hoseok paled again swaying on the spot and you laid him back down. “You are properly scared aren’t you?”

“I am horrified,” he laughed, “I am a big chicken”

“Honestly, I am scared too but I don’t get a choice Hobi, this baby is inside me and it has to get out somehow." you shiver after confessing the fear that had been building in the back of your mind. “If I wasn’t afraid of surgery I would install the old side door”

The gesture of a flat hand across your stomach made Hoseok smile sadly. He took your hands in his. 

“I’m sorry that you have been dreading this. I will try to be someone who can eliminate your fears, little darling momma” he kissed your head. The instructor called everyone back to the mats and began explaining how to wash a baby and how to hold a baby for the first time. 

It was a fun class but you were happy to get home and rest, biding Hoseok good night. He went quickly to his house where Jimin was sitting waiting for him with a hanging clothes bag. 

“What were you so busy doing that I had to pick up your dry cleaning?”

“Y/n’s birthing class” Hoseok's face turned grave as he adopted a serious tone. “Jimin, don’t ever go to a birthing class. I don’t think I can unsee what I saw.”

“Haha, I’m not that silly, I know where babies come from. I am glad I am a man who likes men, so I will never step foot in a birthing class unless you pay me a large fortune. I mean I could watch someone give birth for money."

Hoseok shivered, making Jimin laugh at his expense. “You look pale, so let's change the subject. I bought Yoongi's old van. He sold it for some new equipment. That means I can get rid of the junk van I was driving before.”

“Can I have your old van?” Hoseok jumped on the opportunity. 

“Uh sure, but I think it’s more money than it’s worth, you can have it for free because it needs new everything.” He shrugged “I was just going to make it scrapped metal”

“Yeah I can fix it up, I got some money lying around.” Hoseok yawned, “anyway thank you so much for getting my suit. I have my first day of work tomorrow, so I should go to bed early”

“Alright, but tomorrow night celebratory drinks for your first day?” Jimin clutched his shoulder. 

“Of course,” Hoseok laughed, waving goodbye and carrying the suit to his apartment. 

“Hey man, how was your day?” Jimin shouted from his newly acquired van from Yoongi. “Get in, we can celebrate tonight” 

Jimin drove Hoseok home under strict orders to grab a nice change of clothes so the two could get ready at his house and go out celebrating Hoseok’s new job. Hoseok took the stairs two at a time leading to his apartment, his hand brushing past your old door. He missed you. He missed having you at his work, at his home, at his leisure. You two were inseparable and yet torn apart by the stages of life.

Hoseok had assumed you both would be single and somewhere in your mid-thirties you would just get married to one another for convenience. He grabbed some clothes and found the blacklight outfit you had bought for him, he pushed it aside trying to move on for just a moment. 

Instead, he grabbed a classic black button-up and a pair of black dress pants. He placed the items in a bag and headed back down to Jimin waiting excitedly in the driver's seat. He drove them across town singing along to the radio and pulled into the driveway of a beautiful home. Jimin was a sugar baby and so he accumulated a lot of money with ease.

Jimin picked up the package by his doorstep curiously and read the name, his face broke out into a smile. Opening the box he found a beautiful pair of earrings. Hoseok paused, knowing Jimin had been talking about these types of earrings for a long time, but these ones looked handmade and a little cheap, not from a brand-name store like most of Jimin’s other clients would buy.

“They are so cute,” Jimin smiled, lifting the note, reading it aloud. “I don’t have money, so I don’t ask for much, it would just be a waste of your time. Even with this, I still want you to know that I think you are really sweet the way you always help others and never forget to share compliments to those who catch your eye. I will never forget how kind and funny, you are especially at work. The way you run your fingers through your hair unconsciously, how you pout when you think, the way you can glide across the dance floor with drinks without spilling anything. You disappear behind the bar with the cutest laugh and I am completely in love with you.”

“You have an admirer,” Hoseok looked over his shoulder at the letter before asking, “I wonder who it is?”

“I am not sure who it could be?” Jimin frowned, taking the box into a spare room filled with gifts. “They seem really nice”

Once the letter was placed carefully in the room, Jimin stepped out and decided to get dressed for the night. He paused in the doorway walking back and taking the earrings. “Even though they are cheap I think I should at least wear them.”

The two got changed and Jimin posed, “take a picture of me looking over my shoulder, so I can post a picture of the earrings on my Insta”

Hoseok picked up his phone and stepped behind Jimin, ready to take the picture of Jimin’s bare shoulder, earring, and side profile. He stopped when his phone came up with the stupid storage message.

Storage full!

You can free up space on this phone by managing your storage in settings.

“I can’t take a picture,” Hoseok sighed. “My phone storage is full”

“It’s okay, I should put on a bit of makeup to make the picture really pretty. While I do that, use my computer to plug it in and delete stuff. You can save the rest onto a USB, which you will find in the top draw. The USBs should be empty.

Hoseok watched Jimin stroll into the bathroom and thought he might as well take care of this storage issue on the phone. Plugging the device in, Hoseok began going through and deleting memes and stupid screenshots he no longer needed. He went through saving many photos of you, and videos the two of you shared together.

That's when he came across the picture of the two of you dressed in your black light outfits. Both of you looking happy together in the mirror. Hoseok saved the photo to the USB. The next was a blurry picture on the dance floor, he didn’t need that.

Deleting a range of blurred photos, Hoseok kept swiping through them until he came across a video of you and Hoseok walking home. He heard you giggling and unconsciously smiled. He honestly was so in love with you.

There were a few more blurred videos and then there was a video of you two laying in Hoseok’s bed. His heart started to race as he watched you lean down and kiss him in the video. Hoseok couldn’t remember any of this.

The next video was of you removing your dress but it continued, sometimes the phone was just left on the bed face down, at other points, it was lifted and Hoseok heard himself talking as he pointed the camera at you underneath him. “I love you.” He had filmed you while you two were having sex, “I love being inside of you too.”

Hoseok felt a little guilty, while you two were drunk he took a video of you both, not only that but he felt as if he took advantage of you. The next video was taken from behind and Hoseok felt ashamed of himself for the stirring in his pants. 

“Are you watching porn?” Jimin laughed from the next room, confused as Hoseok switched to the next video. The two of you were cuddling on your side, Hoseok being the big spoon. 

Hoseok's face fell. What had he just watched? His head was reeling with so many thoughts that he couldn’t process them fast enough. He understood that it was you in the video, and you were with him. It was that night. Were you his dream girl? “I slept with Y/n?” He blurted and like being hit with a truck he came to a shocking revelation. Hoseok shot to his feet and spoke out loud hoping it would help him make sense of the situation, “Am I, I think, I might be the father?”

“Oh, Finally!” Jimin shouted, his voice carrying into the office. “I have been waiting for you to figure it all out”

“What do you mean?” Hoseok said his stomach was feeling sick, he didn’t know if he wanted to vomit or cry. The betrayal setting in, “How did you know? DID SHE KNOW?”

Jimin stepped into the room, his lips pressed together in a thin line, with a look of pity on his face confirming Hoseok's suspicion. Hoseok got up, his eyes flashing around the room in a panic. He pushed past Jimin and grabbed the old set of keys from the countertop. Hoseok escaped and drove fast. He didn’t have a destination in mind but after a few minutes of driving he ended up at a park by Han River.

Shutting off the engine, Hoseok let his hands fall from the wheel, his head resting back against the seat, letting out a loud guttural shout. He let the tears fall freely as his sobs racked his body, every breath catching in his throat as if he was choking. 

Hoseok wanted to scream, he wanted answers. They all knew. You knew. He thought he was your best friend, someone he trusted with all his secrets, and yet you kept something this big from him. The sick feeling in his stomach grew as did his anger and frustration with the situation.

How long were you going to keep this from him? When the baby was born? When the child was eighteen? Never? He had a right to know but all he wanted to know was why. 

He left the vehicle, his phone ringing with your number but he turned it off. He walked to the nearest bar somewhere dark and quiet and he drank until he couldn’t see his hands. 

“Hey mate you have to go, come on get up.” The bartender said, nudging him with an exaggerated sigh, “Mate can I call someone to come get you?”

“No one, my best friend is a liar, she is pregnant and didn’t even tell me it is my child,” Hoseok mumbled into the table. The bartender sighed again reaching into his pocket, “Who do you want me to call mate?”

“No need to call, I will go,” he said, pulling out his keys only to have them snatched from his hand. Hoseok turned to see Yoongi grabbing Hoseok’s things and thanking the bartender. “What do you want?”

“I got a distressed call from Y/n she is hysterical, I have checked in every bar and searched the nearby streets for Jimin’s old van. Yoongi threw the keys to Jimin who was waiting by the abandoned van and Yoongi scooped Hoseok inside.

Hoseok woke as Yoongi turned the key in the ignition they were headed for his home, but Hoseok had other plans. “You knew didn’t you?” Hoseok growled, “Take me to her."

“Not in this state?” Yoongi said definitely. “You are going to sober up, and then tomorrow you can speak with her.”

“You take me there right now, or I will get out of this car and go there myself!” Hoseok demanded, attempting to remove his seatbelt.

“Alright, alright sit down, I will take you to see her, but if you raise your voice at her I will knock you out and drag you back to your apartment." Yoongi turned to Hoseok with a menacing glare. "Do you understand?”

He nodded needing answers and he wasn't going to stop until you gave them to him. They pulled up outside your home and as he walked to the door he felt as if his legs were weak, ready to give way. He knocked with shaking hands.

He didn’t have to wait long for you to pull open the door eyes pink and swollen from your own tears.

"Hobi, I-" 

"Please don’t talk, you had your chance. This whole time, and you didn’t… You didn’t tell me, little darling.” His voice cracked as he held up a hand to stop you, “it’s my turn to talk, you can listen to me.”

He watched you wipe the tears away, he wanted to comfort you, you were his closest friend. He loved you so much and couldn’t bear to see you upset. “You knew we had sex, you knew what we did and you hid that from me, you fell pregnant and you hid that from me?”

“I told you when I lost my virginity, I told you when I scratched my dad’s car, I told you when I took money from my fathers wallet, or when I stole your homework. I told you when I was moving from home, I told you everything good and bad.” Hoseok pulled out the phone and played the video, the sounds of you two together filling the air. “But you couldn’t tell me, your best friend, that we did this? That I might be the father of this baby?”

“Hobi, I wanted to tell you I was-” Your tears were relentless and it looked like the weight of the world was crushing you with guilt. You looked lost, he knew there must be so much you wanted to say and explain but the words escaped you. All you could think to do was apologize, like some sort of animatronic doll with one function.

“Wanted to tell me isn’t telling me,” he frowned. “Say it, is this baby mine?”

“Yes, you are the father?” You whimpered, holding your stomach. Hoseok didn’t feel better. He didn’t feel better confronting you or getting the truth. He didn’t feel better watching you cry. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. You are all I have Hobi, and I love you.”

“I thought I loved you too. I thought I really truly loved you, that even though I wasn’t the father, I would step in if I could. It turns out the woman I fell in love with is nothing but a liar.” Hoseok turned away unable to see your face contort in pain from the words he was saying, “I am disappointed in you. You said you wanted to grow up, but this is so immature”

Demanding to leave, Yoongi took Hoseok and headed to the van once more, hoping that the two of you could rebuild your relationship. It was painfully obvious that you both were painfully in love, so much so, that it was breaking your hearts more to fight with one another, than over whatever the fight was about.

You had spent the rest of the night crying until pure exhaustion took over your body and you fell asleep. No matter how many times you texted or called you got no response. You had left almost fifteen voicemails before you became too hysterical to speak. You were emotional and trying your hardest not to break down long enough for you to think things through. 

It took four days and sitting in the bottom of the shower for ten minutes before you came to a decision. Even before Hoseok knew he was the father, you had planned to do it on your own. You weren't weak and you knew for certain that you would be okay. You had planned to raise this child as a single mother, you had hoped to tell Hoseok before all this happened, but you had planned for it just in case something like this did happen.

You could do this without Hoseok, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt, that you weren't mourning the relationship you had lost. You picked yourself up and put on a brave face crying only when you were alone as you single-handedly funded Ben and Jerry's company with the amount of ice cream you consumed.

You arrived at the next prenatal appointment. You watched all the couples cooing at their bellies and the little sonogram photos, as you sat alone quietly rubbing your belly and thinking how much you loved this child.

It strengthened your bond between you and your baby. You were working hard at your job, not ready to go on maternity leave as you didn’t know how financially stable you would be. You also worried because, without the distractions of work, you realized how alone you truly were and how much you missed Hoseok.

You wanted nothing more than to go back in time and take it all back. You wanted to get the courage and tell him. You would give anything to wake up beside him the morning after and just let yourselves deal with the aftermath.

Your mother's words echoed in your head, only able to be drowned out by the sound of your baby's heartbeat through the doppler, as the ultrasound technician measured your sweet little baby girl.

She had done no wrong and deserved only good things. It was on your way home from the scan that you decided to enter the baby boutique. You knew you were filling a Hoseok shaped void in your chest but you didn’t care, purchasing clothes, socks and shoes, and a tiny beanie all in mint green, white, or grey. At the checkout, you saw a small personal travel doppler for eighty dollars. It wasn’t as strong or as reliable as the one at the clinic but you bought it anyway. 

It was the first thing you did when you got home, you put the gel on your stomach and pressed the doppler to your tummy, and listened to the tiny heartbeat and the swishing of the umbilical cord. The tears didn’t stop and that heartbeat in your belly was the mantra to which you swore to live your new life.

You were no longer living for yourself, you were living for your daughter, whom you loved so dearly. You stopped looking for Hoseok through the seventh and moved into the eighth month of your pregnancy feeling semi-okay.

Called by the marketing director to meet with the client, you followed him with documents, “Why did you pick me?” you asked

“You are the only one fit for this job,” He said, which made you feel odd, surely the pregnant lady wasn’t the first choice. However, you obeyed his orders, grabbed your coat, and followed to the restaurant where you were met with an unbelievable sight. 

There was Hoseok standing by a beautiful woman dressed in a suit. Not only was it a punch to the chest, but it also left you self-conscious, resembling a chocolate egg. The way your body was so rotund did not do wonders for one's self-esteem.

Hoseok didn’t notice you until you stepped up to the table, your director announcing your arrival and greeting the young woman with a kiss on each cheek. “This is my hardest working assistant Miss Y/n,” The director said and you wondered again why he had chosen you to accompany him to the meeting.

“Well let’s get to business” the client smiled. You sat at the table and they brought out menus. “I will have the salmon en papillote, with a nice chardonnay.” 

“I will have the same,” the marketing director said, attempting to look cool but you weren’t so sure.

“We will have the Steak au Poivre, I will take medium rare and she will have hers well done. What is in the side salad?” Hoseok asked and you looked up over the menu shocked by his audacity.

“We use a mesclun mix for its various colors and textures, with Lebanese cucumbers and avocado for a fresh and creamy taste and a drizzle of classic french vinaigrette” the waiter smiled politely. 

“Skip the salads and instead vegetables would be preferable for both.” Hoseok closed the menu and looked up, the waiter looked at you for confirmation and you nodded handing over the menu.

“Have you two met before?” The client asked curiously and Hoseok shook his head, “It’s just you ordered for her?”

“She is pregnant so the best meat option is beef well cooked, and the salad would most likely make her sick due to the acidity in the vinaigrette.” Hoseok continued,  “the vegetables, though plain, will be easier to handle and will benefit her better than a salad. It is something I learned in a birthing class once”

“Yeah, and you haven’t been back since.” You scoffed, drinking your water trying to calm yourself so you didn’t explode with anger.

“I didn’t think I had to, seeing as I am not the father of any children.” He said dryly back and you stood up throwing the napkin at him, tears welling up in your eyes. You didn’t care if he didn’t like you and refused to acknowledge your presence ever again, but saying that about your child was not okay.

“You take that back, Hoseok." You almost shouted but restrained yourself due to the setting, Hoseok didn’t appear to move and you tilted your head back and took a shaky breath. “I am sorry, it seems I am feeling ill, allow me to leave first”

You stepped out the door and headed down the road trying to find a cab when a hand grabbed your arm. Disappointed when it turned out to be the marketing director. “I rescheduled our meeting, I am sorry, you had to deal with something like this, it must be stressful being so pregnant”

He touched your belly and you were a little uncomfortable. This man was a little too interested in your pregnancy. At first, you thought he was just a nice boss who was looking out for you, but it was clear he had some strange thoughts running through his mind.

When he said he would drive you home, you told him you had an appointment. Even then he was determined to take you to the appointment, but you waved down a cab and jumped in quickly. You arrived at Jin and Tonic for a much-needed appointment.

“I want a drink” you sighed and Seokjin gave you water and you looked up seriously. I want an actual drink Jin, I am going through the worst year of my life.”

“Worse than the time you tried to become a volunteer at a homeless center, where some weird lady cut chunks out of your hair, so you had to shave it off?"

"Then you got into a fight with Hoseok because he drew an arrow on your head while you were sleeping and everyone called you Aang,” Jimin added as he shed his small jacket, showing off a pretty choker chain necklace with a rose pendant. “Cause you said that was the worst year of your life.”

“This is worse,” you said. “At least I was the one angry at Hobi and I forgave him quickly, now he is angry at me and even denied being the father of our baby. That’s not even the worst of it. My boss has some sort of pregnancy fetish and keeps trying to touch my belly and I am not here for it”

“Pregnancy fetish?”

“It’s not sexy, I am swollen from the neck down, I couldn’t see my feet this morning. I just hope I wore the same shoes. My bladder is so squished I am peeing all the time, I am hormonal and sweaty, and I can’t fit into my favorite pajamas.” The hysterical sobbing was muffled by the bar and it made Jimin giggle behind his hand. He walked around to give you a hug and Jin presented you with an ice cream sundae in an effort to cheer you up.

“Dance with me, pretty lady,” Yoongi said, finishing his drink and taking your hand. He led you to the dance floor where you were slow dancing like you used to. “You are still as pretty as always. Okay, you may not feel beautiful right now due to all those things, but I promise that you are.”

“Thanks, Yoongi.” You tried to get close enough to hug Yoongi but your belly prevented you from doing so, he stepped behind you and wrapped his arms around you slipping his hands under your belly and swaying. He was trying to take some of the weight to relieve some pressure on your back. “You are amazing,”

“I am, aren't I.” He laughed, swaying you softly.

Tags: @brbkpop @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @munchyn @unadulteratedlyunique @jinhitwhore @knjkitten @jooniesdimples70307 @the-snowbear25 @kb-bangtanenthusiast @moments-of-melancholy @levantelux @theadorkablezaza @crustycaitlin @verasays​  @usagiserenity530 @carmxx​ (Please remember to have your tag settings on so you can recieve notifications about updates)

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[bi-dazai]

honestly i think i have a weird anger or cultural confusion where other gay and trans ppl are like much happier and comfortable to come out and shit and be open, but I've always had an extremely complicated relationship with it because it's always made me feel so isolated and lonely, even with other gay ppl around. and younger ppl especially will like go around coming out so frequently and meanwhile if I'm going to even tell you that I'm attracted to women I have to trust you 110% and that isn't something that comes easy.

I'm terrified of like. Wearing even rainbow goddamn socks because I'm scared shitless of getting bullied, or harassed, or even assaulted. Which is ironic considering I try to be quite fashionable in public but with being openly bi (let alone being openly TRANS) it's a complete no-no.

Like I think as much as I love being bi and nb at the same time I still despise it, I still think it's ruined my life. I have gender dysphoria about my chest whereas if I was cis I would be so happy with how feminine my body is. My first ever relationship with another girl at the moment being cut short by abusive homophobia fucked me up in innumerous ways, leading me to like...severe issues with the way i feel about sex and emotional attachment and touch.

And ofc there's the homophobia, like at this moment I'm probably leaning towards getting a fuckbuddy or smth over tinder but like a romantic relationship with another person is terrifying, like I'm insanely private w relationships even w men, I won't let us hold hands if I think too many people might see bc i have this stupid complex

There's more and more but my relationship with being Out is one where it's something that I simultaneously desire and despise, being Out is one of the most terrifying concepts I can think of and to me having someone refer to me as "they" and not as a woman is simply not as important as being safe, as not living in even more fear of assault.

And then all around me ppl my age (although usually younger) are all coming out to anyone and everyone like it's just casual, saying their pronouns like it's nothing. And first it's disbelief and shock because holy fuck, has everyone gone fucking mad?? Are we all so fucking stupid that we just forget the everloving fear homophobia strikes into you?? And then it's the jealousy, that these people have this comfortable relationship with their own gay/transness and enough trust to actually open up and tell a room full of strangers "please call me they not she". It's disappointment and anger in myself that almost 7 years after forcing myself to whisper "I'm bisexual" to the bathroom mirror in the middle of the night and then cry my eyes out because it felt like I'd been cursed, and probably over a decade since I'd started having sexual feelings about all genders, and an entire lifetime of having feelings for men women and others, after so long I'm still just a coward who sits and hates it all, who fears it all.

But then recently I've come to the realisation that the way I realised I was gay was a way that's kind of...dying out. That being the mostly offline way.

Don't take this the wrong way but I've found a lot of people go online and find this overwhelming amount of support and representation for gay and trans identity. You can argue validly this statement, but the context I use this in is comparing it to like. 2013. People were way less online. Being an online celebrity was a novelty.

At school there were dyke, faggot, tranny, etc, thrown around as if they were confetti. Jokes about "lesbos" and "lesbihonest" humiliated any girl who was too close to another girl. I grew up not just in Brisbane Queensland but in a town that was connected to the mainland only by two bridges - a landbridge and a humanmade bridge. The school was overwhelmingly anglo. Overwhelmingly right wing.

I realised I was bi with minimal help from Tumblr. I realised I was bi because I fell, hard, for my best friend. And then she liked me back, and our relationship was amazing. But the school found out. We held hands under the table, we found a quiet moment to kiss and everyone pointed and stared. We made out in the shadow of a building and turned to find twenty people watching gawkeyed, pointing, fascinated.

The entire time her mum was abusive, and massively homophobic. She blamed me for turning her daughter gay. She forced us multiple times to break up at the threat of violence. Eventually we did. We never talked about it. Our friendship never returned like it used to. It was awkward, tinged with sadness, regret, yearning and young love cut short.

It was traumatic, to say the least.

Tumblr in 2014, despite the cringe screenshots, wasn't actually mostly about LGBT positivity or whatever. I first saw the term bisexual on, if you can believe me, a quotev story in 2011 about a cheerleader and an emo girl who get together in a secret relationship. You were either gay or straight, or you had an exception. Bisexual felt right, though, for me, felt accurate, was accurate.

It was years of confusion and secrecy and guilt, peeks at other girls in the changing room that I couldn't help and I didn't understand why. Then it was months and months of anger and frustration at myself that I was feeling this way and confused about myself, and then when I said those words it felt like I was being torn apart. It felt like my life had fallen apart. I cried every goddamn night, I felt awful all the time.

At school the kids noticed. They noticed before I started dating my friend, they noticed the way I looked at her and they interrogated me about it. I'd claim up and down I had a crush on another boy - true perhaps, but it was a passing interest - and then they said they told him and analysed how I reacted. And then the interrogations continued for months because the gay girl was entertainment for them. Around me, as I walked between classes, had lunch, walked home, dyke dyke dyke faggot hahaha.

And then the relationship happened and then leelah alcorn happened and I learned what a trans person is. And sometime when I was fifteen I saw nonbinary begin to pop up, terms like genderfluid and nonbinary and they rang true like bisexual did, but the last time I went down a rabbit hole like that it ended in trauma, and another person got hurt. I didn't throw homophobia at her, but I felt and still feel responsible for it. I didn't turn her gay, but I made it obvious. I don't quite know how to say it.

I knew I was nonbinary, deep down. One day I decided to add that to my tumblr bio. Nobody gave a shit, just like nobody gave a shit when I said I was bi. But that was because I wasn't open about it even online. I couldn't talk about that stuff or I'd curse myself.

Time went on, I got more comfortable, collected fresh new traumas. My brother came out as trans. Around me, friends came out as gay and trans. But they kept coming out. They didn't stop at close friends and trusted family, they told teachers, their entire class. I didn't understand. Why the fuck would you put yourself at risk like that?? And I still don't. I said it was jealousy and anger at myself before, and maybe it is still a little bit, but now, it's just concern.

As I said, the way I realised I was gay is the rather old fashioned way - offline, through trauma, and almost entirely unenjoyable and traumatic. A lot of kids still go through that for sure. But the ones I see telling everyone over that they're gay or trans are, in my experience, not those ones. As the internet began to become more of a general use thing and less of a "only recluse weirdos" space, the online LGBT safe space began to expand into an audience bigger than before. Online, you were safe. Nobody knew your name, you were behind a screen. Homophobia was veiled, you could just delete a hateful anon, could just log off. You could put up your pronouns and people would use them because, well, ppl didn't really have any other identifier someone might use for your gender. So this positive uplifting atmosphere spawned for the most part. And instead of learning through confusion and rare chance encounters with random words and crying into the sink every night that you're gay, you much easier come across this content that tells you indepth what this is and that it's okay. And you think, well wow, that's me, and then...you know, I guess. Not denying there's some of the classic self hatred etc but...you have this safe space online to fall back on, and I cannot emphasise how much that has pushed the acceptance and widespread knowledge of lgbt people in the past 5 years. I didn't exactly have that space, and my realisation was through mostly real life channels, which were swamped at all sides by homophobia, at worst, abusive, at kindest, it would treat you like a sideshow attraction.

Being someone who arguably isn't old enough to brush this difference away with being an "older gay" but still having had a gay experience quite different to the majority in my generation (applying this to area as well) I have to say I'm confronted with this comfortableness other days have a lot and it's always jarring. I think also that while it's important and I'm happy that "younger" gays and transes have at least one good support network/space to fall back onto online, I do think it creates this kind of...dangerous other side, especially for those who go to schools that are LGBT positive and have families who are also friendly to that sort of stuff. I find that young gay teens are totally unprepared and unhardened for the fact that most people you run into in real life despise your guts for existing as who you are. And while we can make as many soppy gay narratives as possible about being honest about who you are and losing shame, we need to face the fact and teach young lgbt kids that being Out isn't just something you do as a ritual in being gay or trans, it's a brave thing and it's completely optional. And furthermore, most importantly, it's insanely dangerous.

I don't think that teenage, raw fear of the consequences of even the very concept of being Out has ever left me. Perhaps I have to thank the homophobic 14 yr olds who swamped me in slurs and trauma, because it's given me a survival sense that's kept me closeted so far you'd never get in.

But occasionally I'm tempted, particularly with my transness which I am only out to perhaps 3 people about, to venture into the world of telling people about yourself. I started a new uni semester and in a tutorial, the teacher handed out cards. We were to use it as a placard to write our names on it so the teacher would learn our names over the next few classes. And, if we chose...our pronouns.

I stared at that card for what felt like a million years. This has always been an ordeal. People don't know how to pronounce my name, even though it's a rather simple one. But pronouns? I'd never really told anyone those. Online, yes, and once when I was asked by a friend i was brave enough to say "any will do" but this - this wasn't the curated safe online space, this wasn't a one-time phrase to a friend. This was an open, permanent thing that would sit below me every class, declaring me to 18 other people. I wrote down "NATALYA", then beneath "she/". And then I stared some more. I felt like I was going to die. I felt like I was the biggest fool, because before I could stop myself I wrote "she/they". No "he", not yet. But...it was there.

At the end of the class the teacher collected the placards. I wanted to run back screaming, wanted to ask her for a new card so I could be safe again. But I didn't because I would look like a freak and a coward.

I still think it's stupid. I still think I've put some petty gesture that no one will ever respect (if they can call you she they won't ever call you they) above my own safety. The thing that really struck me was that it didn't feel good. The reason I wrote it like that, I believe in hindsight, is that I was curious what those other kids feel like, because it must feel good to declare that you're a tr*nny d*ke in front of the entire class, good enough to beat the stomach-lurching dread that precedes such an action. But it didn't. It just felt like an unnecessary risk. And it made me feel worse, like there was a target on the back of my head.

I think I could talk about this forever, about how so many kids believe coming out is this thing you're required to do to be a good gay, but it's not. It's stupid stupid reckless, and in my case it ends with you getting fucked over.

But Ive written for ages and gotten prosaic halfway through so I'm gonna shut up. Basically why the fuck do you guys come out to everyone like please stay safe instead of this it isn't worth it.

[agustd-png]

Here’s Why I Write Smut

It's no secret that @btssmutgalore is my favorite writer on here. I have a great deal of respect for Dee and her work. I saw her post about why she personally writes smut, and so I thought I would take the time to do the same about myself.

I've already talked about my experience with abstinence only education at various times, so I won't talk extensively about it here. But I was raised Catholic (and still am), I went to an all-girls high school, I grew up with abstinence only education, and received no sex ed. I had a strong curiosity about sex, but only as a topic to learn about; I had no personal interest in it until my late teens, so I accepted the chastity teachings without much thought. But any attempt I made at gaining information felt like I was committing a horrible sin. I watched my friends get torn apart emotionally, I found out the true statistics regarding abstinence only education, and as a result, I have made learning all I can about sex and spreading proper sex ed one of my secret life goals. I’ve even considered going into sex therapy as a career because it is the closest thing to a calling that I’ve ever felt.

Now, here's the thing. I am in my mid-twenties, and I have never had sex. I've never been in a relationship, never been asked out, never been kissed, and it's not something I'm interested in right now. Any want I have for these things is out of curiosity and a desire to gain knowledge (which is a terrible reason to engage in a relationship, so here I am. 💁)

I started reading smut my freshman year of college. It was around that time I started having an interest in sex in ways other than academic, and I read about my favorite celebrities at the time. I started exploring my sexuality for the first time on my own. It was when I got into kpop my sophomore year that I started writing. I read and had a hard time finding what I wanted. I also thought I could write better (I couldn't 🤣).

It was then that I started facing my reality: I was terrified of sex. I found it fascinating, but I was so scared of it. I was raised basically with the idea that anything other than missionary between a husband and wife was shameful and sinful, and my anxiety and other mental disorders lead any sexual thoughts that crossed my mind to turn into intrusive thoughts of sexual abuse. So I didn't want to think about it, I pushed it out of my mind, and perhaps that was why I didn't have any personal interest until I was ~19. Maybe I wasn't letting myself feel it. Maybe I subconsciously thought it was too complicated and sinful that I just didn't want any part of it personally. I don't know. I still don't know. I hear people my age or younger having conversations about sex so casually, and I envy them. I still have a hard time talking about it out loud.

So I started facing this and facing my personal relationship with sex. I learned so much about myself, sex, and other people through the request blog I ran. However, what had started as something healthy for myself became a lonely blog where people would expect me to take hours to write out their fantasies for them without so much as a “thank you”. That's why I deleted it, and why I rarely take requests here.

Recently, my writing has changed. It's become what I want it to be, what I wished I had had when I was younger. I try my hardest to write in healthy, realistic, happy (but still hot) relationships, especially towards women. I have no problem with porn as a concept, but its no secret that the porn industry has created such a culture of abuse towards women. I want people to see something to aspire to, the kinds of relationships they deserve to be in, sexual and otherwise. I write for myself still and write out my own fantasies, but I think more about you all nowadays because I care about you all so much. I try to avoid using words like "filth", "sin", or phrases like "going to hell" when talking about smut or sex in general, because even as a joke, it is subconsciously damaging. I want this blog to be sex positive in all ways.

Writing smut has helped me become so much more comfortable with myself and my sexuality. To be able to talk about sex comfortably, to be...happy when I think about sex instead of scared. (I’m also an artist and wanted to get better at writing, and writing fics has helped me so much with that.) Writing yourself into sexual situations is very therapeutic (quite literally; it is often used in sex therapy), and you don't need to be a good writer to do it. I honestly recommend everyone try writing smut. Just write for yourself, write with the idea that no one's going to read it ever, throw away any reservations you have and just WRITE. You'd be surprised what you can come up with 😉

[sebongie-loves]

youtuber!wonwoo

someone said to write more of this which i’m very happy that there’s someone who enjoys this, so here ya go! <3 

enjoy :)

wonwoo is that one youtuber that is cute, emo, relatable, awkward but seriously funny and got shipped with his own bestfriend

i mean by this y’all probably already know but his style is like daniel howell

he does random videos and probably films it at random times like this one time he made a video something like ‘What’s On My Mind at 3AM’ which literally him only talking for 5 minutes and it’s all giberish 

“who is the first person that made languages, the very first one. why do they decided to named pen ‘pen’? look at this pen, does it make you wanna say ‘pEn’? like, why?”

but actually an intellectual

savage most of the time 

saying stuffs like

“the reason why i don’t want to do collabs outside my circle of friends? uuuh snakes are not exactly my favourite animal”

probably hates everyone beside his friends

even with his friends, he acts like he hates them but everyone knows wonwoo is just a soft guy with a hard shells

like crabs 

but he doesn’t like seafoods 

ironic 

wears long sleeves jumpers or like jacket just for the sake of sweater paws that makes all of his subcribers go ‘awwwwwwwwwwww’ and soft for him

but this one time, he forgot and filmed with the sleeves rolled all the way his elbow, showing his muscular arms and his subscribers just went like ‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA’ 

so his subscribers are constantly torn between him being soft or sexy like dang this boy can do both

he loves communicating with his viewers so he often goes on twitter or tumblr. just lurking and replying at 4am

does q&a everytime he ran out of ideas 

he does book review at every end of the month, like ‘January Favourites’ and does book hauls

which his viewers often joke something like wonwoo probably loves to watch make up artists that’s why he makes this kind of videos but with books  

he lives in korea. in fact, he lives there for most of his life and kudos for him, he learnt english at a very young age which makes english a language that he can speak comfortably

when he made this videos for the first time it was very impulsive like he did not expect anyone to watch him but appearantly lots of people found him cute so basically he grew up on youtube

started his career at a very young age really makes him who he is right now

sometime speaks korean and his fans just lose their shit after hearing him speaking in korean

he’s the cutest when talking about his favourite things like games, books and his friends

always spreading awareness about mental illness, equality, racism etc and not scared about it because he thinks that’s the right thing to do 

you’re just an ordinary person. living your life, which is also mean you’re binge watching youtube until 3 am when you need to wake up at 6am

your first video of wonwoo is doing a book review on your favourite books and damn the boy has the same opinion as you 

you later find him really cute and you’re enjoying his content so much that it almost makes you just stay on youtube all day all night

just like what you did everytime you found a new youtuber, you followed his twitter and his instagram and turn his post notification on so you know when he’ll drop something 

wonwoo notices someone that he thought is attractive on his comment section like seriously he cannot help himself but to search at your profile picture on his new videos and when he found your instagram and your twitter?

his life is a freakin mess because he seems like he likes you so much

it’s 3am at your place and you’re watching youtube like usual when a notification pops out from twitter. you usually found it annoying but not this time

‘Jeon Wonwoo liked your Tweet’

you almost throw your phone across the room and screaming at the top of your lungs when you found out it is the real him, not some kind of a troll but you still value your life that you hold everything so that your parents wont run to your room bringing knifes on their hands

wonwoo, in the other side, was almost destroyed his roommates’ ear and doors when he realised he accidentaly liked one of your tweets before you sending him a direct messages

“so, what’s the deal of a famous youtuber liking my tweet?”

you sent it without expecting a reply, that he would just go on with his life and forget the whole thing but no you’re wrong

“i’m sorry it was an accident”

“my tweet from four months ago?”

“.... okay i stalked you you got me.”

a direct message leads to being mutuals, being mutuals leads to giving each other personal information, giving each other personal information leads to texting all day all night, texting leads to voice calls and who know you’ll ended up video calling with him? :)

you ended up liking him as jeon wonwoo, not that youtuber wonwoo

and wonwoo should never lie about his crush on you because it’s obvious

he prioritise to video call you or voice call you 

he starts to give a content where it’s so obvious that he’s in love with someone

you love how he is always around you

he’s always there when you’re sad and comforting you

when you’re happy, he is always around to talk with you

when you’re lonely, he’s the one that is understanding

everyone around you and him know this relationship between you two and how much you want to meet them. wonwoo would like to visit but no matter how much he wants to prioritise you but he still needs to pay his bills and his foods so he’s really sorry that he cannot meet you anytime soon

all you can give him is a reassurance, saying things like ‘that’s okay we can meet someday, trust me!’

and that day comes

it was your birthday 

you’re video calling with wonwoo that is holding a small cake with candles to celebrate your birthday when your family and friends come into your room saying “we are sure that you’ll love this more than any luxurious items in this world”

that was when you found out you’re going to a trip to south korea

and now here you are, with a thousand butterflies in your stomach and you’re seconds away from meeting wonwoo

“y/n!!” 

a deep voice welcomed you, the deep voice you always heard against your phone screen or through your earphone is now calling your voice irl sounds so.. unbelievable?

no matter how hard it is to believe, wonwoo is there. standing with a cardboard that is decorated with pink glittery paint which you never expected him to hold that 

“this is my friend’s works but i guess it’s either you’ll love it or you’ll hate it.” he says with a smile, an awkward smile because he is so shy to meet you and happy at the same time 

you just can’t help yourself but to hug him and him replying the hug

“i can’t believe you’re real!”

“well i am but it’s just.. idk i’m so overwhelm and so happy that you’re here” 

he pats your head before breaking the hug. “now ready for the south korea’s adventure?”

“you mean, binge watching something in your room until 3am?”

he grinned and took your suitcase, bringing it to a taxi stop nearby. “you know me so much.”

who would’ve known? you who are living your boring life suddenly dating your favourite youtuber and now you’re in his room, in his embrace, cuddling with him?

even his touch still feels surreal to you and both of you enjoy every seconds of it

it worth your time

he is worth your time. 

going back and forth to south korea and him going back and forth to your place is not the easiest thing

who would’ve known, you’ll be living on another country with a guy and his trusty camera and his social platform that receives a lot of love by everyone?

well that happened and you two are so drunk in love 

thank you for reading!

i was writing this and it got deleted and i hope it still good despite me writing it in hurry :( and the prompt has been on my draft for 382910 years now omg 

[theramblingonesie]

No More, Mr. “Nice Guy”.

My heart breaks and goes out to all of the women who have had the courage to come forward recently in the media about men in power who have violated them.  I refuse to compare traumas, and some could make the ignorant argument that what I’m about to say “DOESN’T EVEN COMPARE” to other more violent acts in Hollywood, but this particular story about Aziz hits very close to home and has left me slightly undone.

Yesterday, my little sister bravely put a post up on her social media that I hope contributes to changing the minds and hearts of Aziz’s defenders.  Years ago, she had an encounter with him that leaves no doubt in my mind that this man is a serial predator, and is in fact very aware of his behavior.  When I started seeing posts going up about him not knowing any better, it being a one-time accident, give him a chance, etc, my blood boiled over.  Because for every one story that receives light, there is almost always a painful trail of those that don’t.  We, the general public, have absolutely zero knowledge or qualification to conclude this man’s innocence.  But I’ve heard enough true stories that absolutely confirm that he is guilty, and NOT a “nice guy”.

When I first heard this news story, I became very upset about how this brave woman, Grace, is being torn apart by the media.  The criticism, the atrocious “open letter” by another woman, was deplorable enough being directed at her.  But these attacks go further than Grace.  Just like we’re unqualified to say that Aziz is innocent, criticizing and destroying Grace’s character is also insane, because nobody making these comments actually knows her.  Therefor, these words are attacks on every woman, every person, who has ever suffered at the hands of sexual assault, violation, and manipulation.  I moved through the phases of generalized rage, to rage over my sister being targeted, and eventually right over to my own miserable encounter with a different celebrity who is widely known to be a “nice guy”.

What happened between this “nice guy” celebrity and I could also be judged as just a really, really bad date.  Okay. Hm. Here are some examples of dates I’ve been on that qualify as really bad, in my opinion:

1.       Met up with a dude on OkCupid around the corner from my apartment.  He was totally different online versus in person.  He didn’t pick up on any social cues, spoke about himself the entire time without asking me any questions, begged for a kiss at the end of the night, and then attempted to make plans to see me again. It was so gross that I desperately texted another OkCupid match immediately after in an attempt to brain-bleach the experience away.  Dude #2 picked me up around midnight and took me to a diner. He was super nice, but I didn’t feel any chemistry. All in all, the night left me feeling gross, sad, lonely and exhausted.  I deleted my profile shortly thereafter.

2.       Went out with a guy who claimed that he was such a powerful wizard that he could turn invisible, and had me “watch” him do it (I…still saw him).  Later that night he somehow convinced me to go back to his place, where he proceeded to makeout with me under a crystal pyramid.  I still laugh about that one.

3.       My first super-serious boyfriend didn’t know I was 20 when he asked me on our first date. I got kinda lost and was late to meet him in Revere, realized I had forgotten my wallet with all of my money back in Rhode Island, got in the car with him while I was still on the phone with another friend, and then when I asked what we’d be doing that night, he responded that there was a bar he’d like to take me to. I had to give him the news that I was underage. I was absolutely the cause of this horrible date. We ended up being together for five years after that, but good lord was that awful. Forever in my shame file….(side note: the night ended really well, fortunately, and has remained a very sweet memory)

Those are what “bad dates” look like.  There is no sexual assault or emotional manipulation in those stories.  There was no fear for my safety, no violation, no feeling of absolute filth or the kind of humiliation that makes you completely question yourself and turn to ice, drawing up traumas from the past or activating mental illness.  As soon as those qualities enter the picture, one is no longer on a “bad date”.  It becomes a different entity; a bastard child of rape culture.

My “bad date” with this “nice guy” celebrity still haunts me to this day.  He had met me a year or so prior during a big performance I was in, and pursued me to varying degrees over time.  I was completely star-struck.  I had been a fan of this guy’s music since forever, and couldn’t believe that he was paying so much attention to me.   My friends made fun of me because he was a bit older, or at least had aged poorly from years of heavy drug use, but that didn’t matter me. He was sober now, and so devoted to his art, and so smart and funny, and sooooo nice.  After months of more intense flirtation and a solid makeout session after one of his shows, he became insistent on spending more time with me, wanting to treat me like someone he was actually seeing, rather than a casual long-distance flirtation. He begged me to come stay with him in New York for a couple weeks, telling me about all the places he would take me, the fancy dinners, and so on.  I agreed to make it happen, but shortly after saying yes, he began getting a little cold.  Energetically, I knew something was off.  I backed off of the plans, confused, and made up an excuse that I would have to check with my work to see how much time I could take off.  Ultimately I gave in and decided to go down for two nights.  That weekend ended with me going hungry and thirsty, abandoned in a hotel room, fucked twice and then completely snubbed. I felt awful.  I felt used, manipulated and lied to.  I felt cheap, pathetic and outrageously humiliated.  I hated how his coldness made me shut down, and that I felt unsafe being myself. I hated what an idiot I sounded like around him, because my brain was so dissociated from confusion and fear around not understanding the extreme shift that was occurring with him.  I hated how ugly I felt, and how stupid.  I hated that I was treated like a nameless sex worker, and STILL didn’t get paid.  At 1 or 2am on the last night, I sent a frantic text to one of my sister-wives who supported me in an incredible way, offering to buy me a different room so I could sleep before getting back on the road to Boston.  Talking to her gave me the strength to leave there and tell him to fuck off forever.  I wrote him an email while his “sober” ass was drugged up and unconscious on pills next to me, and hit send as soon as I left the hotel, because I had no desire to look at his face or hear his excuses in person.  I told him how horrible his behavior was, to which I didn’t receive any kind of response for hours.  No, the first thing I saw from him was a video on Instagram of him in the back of a cab, just staring into a camera with tears in his eyes so all of his followers could see what a sweet, sensitive man he was in that tender moment of pain.

BARF.

He finally made contact, with his first text saying “well that fucking sucked.”  I tried asking him why he did what he did, to just give me some hint or clue or anything that would help me stop feeling so awful and insane. The last text I remember receiving was, “I said I’m sorry.  I don’t owe you any explanations.”

Outside of work, I spent the next couple days in bed, mourning the experience.  There weren’t enough showers.  I exhausted my tears.  I felt such a depression that I stopped feeling anything at all.  This man continued to follow my friends online, liking their sexy pictures and making fun and flirty comments, as if there were zero consequences to his actions.  Not a drop of guilt or self-awareness.  A few months later, a song of his came on, and like women are conditioned to do, I questioned if the badness of the interaction was all my fault; that my being a desperate loser made him rightfully neglect and mistreat me; that my sensitivity and awkwardness caused me to lose a lover and friend.

SO I SENT HIM AN APOLOGY TEXT AND TOLD HIM I MISSED HIM.

He responded simply that he was glad to hear that.  And we never spoke again.

I dare you to ask me why I didn’t just leave.

I dare you to call that a “bad date”.

I dare you to bring up my age, my fragility, my anxiety or history of depression.

I dare you to ask me why I don’t just say his name, or why I haven’t spoken up sooner (one reason: he already has one autobiography out in which he shares graphic and personal details about the women he’s hooked up with, often through the lens of him being some kind of savior, unless he’s looking for sympathy because he was on drugs. On our “really bad date”, he informed me that he has a deal with a publisher and was in the middle of writing his second autobiography.  I would like to not end up in that book for the rest of time.  If I’m already in that book, I would like it if nobody bought it, so I’m not about to call attention to him. Please thank you amen).

I dare you to tell me that I put myself in that situation.

I dare you to tell me this whole thing is fake because I tried to resume contact.

I dare you to tell me to toughen up and just get over it, that I should be grateful that I don’t live in a part of the world where acid could be thrown in my face.

I dare you to tell me that I asked for it.

I dare you to tell me that it wasn’t technically rape, and that this is just how men are and it’s not his fault.

I dare you to bring up my entire history of sexual assault and dysfunctional relationships, and make an argument that I’m either lying, that I’m a magnet for this, or that I’m just attention seeking.

I dare you to tell me what a fan you are, and that he’s such a nice guy.

Just try me.

These days, I feel mostly healed from this interaction.  I’ll occasionally have a dream about it, or snarl a bit if his name or music come up. Sometimes I try to change the story in an attempt to reclaim any power from the situation, bragging to folks who aren’t close to me that I had the chance to bone a rockstar.  It’s super rare that I feel angry about this anymore. To be honest, my anger about it only flairs up when I hear other women getting trashed for having the courage to come forward about rape culture.  Which, these days, is more and more frequent.  But I think 90% of that anger is that of a collective rage for having to ask/answer these questions, doubt our worth and authenticity in the face of those who hurt us, and lay ourselves out to be slaughtered in the name of “justice”.  5% of it is still being angry at him.  The last 5% is being mad at myself for not acknowledging the red flags for what a loser he is.

While I do believe that there are people who do nice things in the world, I’m all set with “nice guys”.  Or just, “nice people” in general.  More and more, I find that many people who identify as “nice” or are described as “nice”, are simply performing niceness.  I, as with most women on the planet, have had more than my fair share of “nice guys” getting angry with me for not giving them my pussy in exchange for all of the “nice” things they’ve done for me (most of which I never asked for, I just say “oh wow, that’s nice, okay” when it’s presented).  There are countless “nice guys” out there who were my dear friends, who have miserably rejected and abandoned me now that they know I’m not going to fuck or date them. If you ask them, they’ll probably tell you a version where I was so mean or ungrateful, whatever. Find Jesus and call me in the morning.

I’ve had “nice” friends of all genders who use “niceness” like some sort of currency, that when they’re being absolute douchebags, they like to avoid personal responsibility and remind you about how you can’t be upset with them because they’ve done so many “nice” things.  Or they use “niceness” as a way to create co-dependency.  There are a lot of “nice” people in power—cops, celebrities, clergy members, girl scout leaders, teachers, family members, etc. who have done some really nasty things.  A lot of classist racists give to charity.  This is not to say that the rest of us are infallible, no no.  I by no means will try to make you think I’m any kind of angel. But there’s something manipulative and deceptive about the performance of “niceness”.  These people in power who would “never hurt a fly!” have raped, stolen, been abusive, lied, exploited, and hell—even been serial killers!

DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY “NICE GUYS” WHO ARE ACTIVE IN CHURCH AND ARE COMMUNITY LEADERS AND HAVE BEAUTIFUL FAMILIES ARE ALSO MURDERERS??????

SO I DON’T EVEN WITH ME.

Sorry, I don’t mean to contribute to mass hysteria.  No, I truly don’t believe that the average nice person is a murderer.  My point is, “nice” is not an argument toward someone’s innocence.  Nice can be a defense mechanism, like animals who pretend they’re dead so they won’t get eaten.  Underneath that is a world of emotions, thoughts, fears, motivations, experiences, and so on.  I know very, very few people who can be defined with niceness being their authentic, primary trait.  I know infinite humans who are awesome, who are incredibly kind and loving, and do very nice things.  But they also get angry.  They also tell people the truth and say no, which can be met with a lot of resistance and backlash.  They also have moments of being bitchy, and owning that bitchiness.  They can be sad, really really sad.  They can be jealous, cold, selfish, and really a vast array of things, BECAUSE THEY ARE WHOLE HUMAN BEINGS AND THAT IS REAL.

When a person tries to push their niceness on me, or insist that I see them as nice, or others argue with me “but they’re so nice” as a largely defining quality, I am immediately suspicious.  I don’t care if you’re nice.  I care about whether or not you’re mature, and if you have boundaries and empathy.  I care about your actions matching your words, and if what you do behind closed doors matches who you are on Facebook (I mean like, it’s none of my business how much you pick your nose or how many days you go without bathing, but don’t let me find out that your yogi feminist-posting ass abuses women).  I care about whether or not you have genuine love in your heart, and pure intentions. I care about your ability to be kind, and your honesty about when you’re not.  I care about whether or not you have integrity, and if you’re willing to be authentic.  I’m not interested in Nice People.  I’m interested in good people.  Just like self-deprecation is an easy go-to in comedy, how being “pretty” and “cute” are the easiest approaches to burlesque, and how using auto tuning can turn anyone’s voice to gold, the performance of “niceness” is the easiest and most classic manipulation tactic in the book.  I’m not asking you not to be nice.  I’m asking you to be real.  And if being nice in this moment for you is real, then I accept.  But if your “niceness” pushes past my wellbeing, then you are not nice, and your actions are null and void.  Please understand this point.

I am very tired of being fed “truths” based on superficial assessments.  None of you truly know Aziz Ansari.  None of you truly know this celebrity I had a negative experience with. Enjoying a person’s product or public persona is not the same as knowing them.  Destroying a vulnerable person who is suffering at the hands of the strangers you call heroes is unacceptable.  Do not create more wounds and more victims because you can’t hold the hard moral dilemma of enjoying the work or benefits of knowing a person who does bad things.  That is your own cross to bear, not theirs.  They already have enough to deal with.

Next time you say “oh but he’s really a nice guy”, you’d best be able to back that up with extensive, concrete evidence.

Next time you catch yourself huffing and crying, justifying your actions with, “hey, I’m a really nice guy”, check yo’self, because you’re probably about to wreck yo’self.

So what am I really aiming for here, in yet another rambling blog?  My hope and prayer is, whether it’s rape culture, deceptive behavior, or our society trivializing stories that make them question themselves and feel uncomfortable/inconvenienced, that I’ll be able to see a day when this bullshit doesn’t rule our lives.  We need to stop waiting for it to magically appear for us, too.  Each woman who comes out and speaks her truth is doing her part. Each person who is directly acknowledging bad behavior and holding their friends and family accountable is doing their part.  Don’t wait for change to fall in your lap.  Examine the role you play in all of this, and adjust yourself accordingly. You can drag along behind, crying and trying to stop this boat by kicking the waves, or you can jump on board and help us sail collectively to shore.  Either way, this baby is moving forward.  You decide how you want that experience to go for you.

Link here for an amazing article by Lindy West, dismantling the argument that boys and men don’t know any better, and the toxic nuances of rape culture:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/01/17/opinion/aziz-ansari-metoo-sex.html