The Art of Exposing Douches

As many of you probably already know, I have a second blog that I co-run with Ash from More Than Cheese and Beer called DoucheArt. If you’ve never visited that particular site, in a nutshell, we take messages we receive on dating sites (and reader submissions) that are oversexualized and awful and turn them into kitschy art with a little commentary following the images we post.

This has not always gone over well with male readers. Some comments that we’ve gotten include:

· If you really wanted to help, you could use your time to do so much more.

· Why don’t you just block those guys and not worry about it?

· Isn’t getting revenge on stupid people a little petty?

· Making fun of people who don’t really know any better isn’t productive.

Let me address all those in one big lump. Because they’re all relatively linked and all bullshit.

I’m not sure why the assumption is the only people who send awful messages are stupid, socially inept, and don’t know any better. The facts are that after years of being on dating sites, these messages come from people of all races, ages, socioeconomic classes, intelligence levels, and genders (though from my personal experience, they come from men far more often than women). They aren’t coming from stupid people who don’t understand how to talk to others; they come from people who purposefully send such messages because they have issues. Having issues and not knowing any better are two very different fucking things, and the former doesn’t need to be excused. It needs to be highlighted more often and understood in the dating site context.

See, the thing is…we are trying to help on an issue that far too often goes ignored because so many people feel ashamed and guilty for receiving these kinds of messages over and over again. It can be frustrating, sure, but at the core of it is a very big issue that is ever-present in our society. It’s not about revenge, not in the least. It’s about shining a light on these sorts of messages instead of sweeping it under the rug. It’s about making a statement that this shit is not fucking acceptable, not in the least, and that when a message like this happens, it's evidence of the fucked up views of society manifesting in some asshole with too much time on his hands.

What happens when a man (or woman) sends a message detailing the sorts of things he (or she) would like to do to you without ever having talked to you first is tantamount to sexual assault. It’s not any different at all than a man in a trench coat flashing his flaccid little weewee at old ladies in a grocery store parking lot. That message is sent without respect for the person who reads it and is sent for the thrill of sending it just like the flasher shows off his sad little pecker for the thrill of doing so and not with the idea that it is going to win him a date with double-couponing octogenarians. Blocking the person after the fact is like telling your horrified grandmother to just erase the memory of the tragedy that lived beneath the trench coat AFTER she was flashed. It doesn’t fucking work that way. The damage has already been done.

According to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders-v, the criteria for exhibitionistic disorder, one of the paraphilic disorders detailed in the manual, includes the following:

· Over a period of at least 6 months, recurrent and intense sexual arousal from the exposure of one’s genitals to an unsuspecting person, as manifested by fantasies, urges, or behaviors.

· The individual has acted on these sexual urges with a NONCONSENTING person, or the sexual urges or fantasies cause clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning.

Exhibitionistic disorder is highly associated with antisocial personality disorder which is characterized by complete lack of regard for others, manipulation, criminal behavior, lying, conning, and impulsivity. Psychopathy is a subtype of antisocial personality disorder.

I provide that information to illustrate that getting aroused by showing off your genitals to random people really isn’t all that different from sending unsolicited dick pics (which happens. often. Some people even try to beat the bots and use dick pics AS THEIR PROFILE PICTURE) and it’s not all that different from sending a woman a message detailing all the perverted things you want to do to her. She didn’t ask for that information. She is NONCONSENTING. The person who sends those messages, as with the person who flashes his weewee, has no respect or concern for the person who sees. He (as almost all clinical exhibitionists are male according to prevailing studies) has no regard for what the other person wants or for the other person altogether. It’s a sick motherfucker who gets online and jerks off while sending a quantity of random women perverse messages. And make no mistake—that is exactly what is happening. It’s not about her or about how attractive she is. It’s about getting off because it’s a thrill to send something like that and imagine the woman’s face when she opens the message. It’s a new era of exhibitionistic disorder that needs to be studied for future inclusion in the paraphilic disorders of the DSM.

And when you get right down to it, this is all an extension of rape culture, of the sense of entitlement some men have to do whatever it takes to get off even when the other person has absolutely zero desire to be involved. It’s about the attitude that, for men, women are here for their enjoyment especially their most base pleasures and that we, women, really don’t have much say in the matter. The Internet has made this mode of thinking (and yes, I know, #notallmen) even easier to capitalize on because there are relatively NO consequences for this kind of behavior and plenty of websites that promote and celebrate it.

This isn’t about revenge as has been said to us. It’s not petty. It’s not about making people look like idiots. This is about highlighting a serious issue that is basically treated, as always, as the woman’s responsibility and her fault. I can’t tell you how many times that Ash and I have heard “if you don’t want to deal with that then why are you on those sites?” like we’re ASKING FOR IT just because we want to network outside of our very limited local social circles. We’re asking to be abused because we have a profile on a website that is not designed specifically for fetish behaviors, hookups, or casual sex but for dating and getting to know people? Right… I’m tired of being told to just ignore the messages and block the person because in the end, that dude is sending out dozens more to dozens more women who all have to deal with it themselves. I’m tired of being told to report it (like I don’t) when I know each and every person who gets reported just makes a new profile. I’ve gotten messages from the same guy who always talks about how much he wants to dominate me with his 10 inches from at least half a dozen different profiles over the last few years.

This needs to be treated like the serious issue that it is and while we sometimes write from a humorous point of view on DoucheArt we do maintain that the Internet community needs to be more aggressive about this issue. The scariest part of this is that sexual offenders often escalate in their crimes. A person who starts out as a flasher or as an Internet scumbag who sexually assaults women with his explicit messages may very well end up a repeat sex offender as the thrills of *just* flashing recedes and the person in question needs more and more to achieve the same state of arousal.

And, even when the person is not messaging a detailed list of all the things he wants to do and he sincerely propositions a woman in the first message, it's still that same sense of entitlement that makes him think it's okay to do so. We really don't fucking care if you have a huge dick. We really don't care that you want to suck on our tits. We don't have any desire to meet you for drinks and a little fun because you want to show our clitorises a good time. When you have no respect for us on a dating site, why the fuck would you respect us when we said "no" in person? And by then it's too late, isn't it?

So, are there really bigger issues I could tackle or more important ones or more than I can do on my “silly” little blog? I suppose we could always do more and strive to be better, but I’m quite proud of what we’re trying to do here and will continue despite the naysayers.

This is another Sunday of Confessions with More than Cheese and Beer (link above). Please feel free to check out all the other submissions and see all the tales of revenge that should follow. Oh and Please feel free to check out this funny older post of mine involving the time my son got revenge on our cat here.

The Side Effects of Stolen Innocence

I never had the opportunity to have a true, innocent, uncomplicated-by-baggage first love.

That’s just the way the cards were dealt to me this hand, and it’s something that I’ve tried not to dwell on too much, but the facts are that being raped at 13, losing my virginity that way, changed everything. I have no idea what pre-rape sex is like. I don’t know what it’s like to fall hard for someone and make the decision about whether or not to go ALL THE WAY for the first time. That innocence was stolen from me long before I had that opportunity to desperately dwell and overthink that decision and relish in the specialness that comes from sharing that moment with someone in all its imperfect perfectness.

With that loss of innocence comes a lot of bullshit. A lot of emotional issues and physical reactions that affect me as an adult even 20 years later. I’ve loved, surely. I can recall the people in my life that I’ve loved so strongly I thought I would never be able to eat or sleep again when the relationship was over. I can relive with fondness some of the better times we shared and feel a momentary swirl of butterflies when I see them somewhere unexpectedly. I’ve not been in many relationships, and not even all of those were really great, but I know in my lifetime I truly loved and was loved just as fiercely in return. The stark, laid-bare truth for me, though, is that it was never the kind of love that wasn’t tethered by the understanding of what a man could do when “no” wasn’t enough and the primal, unrelenting fear and pain that comes with that knowledge. I have never had the kind of love that is free of that robbery, free of the haunting of an assault that I didn’t deserve.

What I imagine first love to be is sort of like purring bunnies in a field of gummy bear flowers pooping rainbow cupcakes under a radiant boombox sun raining down tasty jams and pulsing glitter all over the place every time the bass hits.

Okay, so maybe I owned too much Lisa Frank shit when I was kid, but either way that image is total

innocent perfection in my mind. Maybe I’m completely off base but that first attempted relationship seems to be more pure than everything that comes after the first gut-wrenching heartache that always follows when you end something with a person you absolutely fall no-holds-barred head over heels for… (and what's more pure than rabbits that eat gummy bear flowers and shit out cupcakes? nothing. not a fucking thing). That’s not to say I think that first love is the best—better than any other relationship you experience in your lifetime, but it’s the only time you start with a clean slate, the only time you don’t bring the good, the bad, and the ugly of every other relationship with you. It’s less weighed down by everything that came before it. In a lot of ways, it’s a fantasy world at least to begin with…people have yet to turn out to be the exact opposite of what you have imagined them to be or break your heart or cheat or lie or fuck with your head. And then when the other shoe drops, it’s perhaps one of the biggest reality checks you face in life.

My shoe dropped before I had a chance to experience the naivety of it all.

I rail on so often about rape culture on social media, in person, on the phone….anytime and anywhere the conversation is appropriate and even when it’s not. The fact that rape goes largely unpunished in our society and that the blame is often laid upon the shoulders of the victim to carry as if she (or he) was not already carrying a heavy load just by way of being victimized means that the big picture of what a person loses and the insecurities a person gains after being raped is ignored. I didn’t suffer a momentary, fleeting fear that resolved itself after the event was over. My entire being was violated and my existence was forever changed while the perpetrator of that death—the murder of my innocence—has gone on to have a life completely unaffected by the fear, the pain, the anger, the shame, and the guilt that has so often peppered the very essence of my being. It has been 20 years since that night, and I still can’t answer the door when I’m home alone without panicking. I never had my innocent, vibrant, Lisa Frank-esque love. I have never been able to set foot in my father’s house without reliving it. And, that will never change… None of it. It’s with me for as long as I live and breathe. We, as a people, have to stop and consider the toll that this takes on 1 out of 5 women (sometimes multiple times) in our lives. Think of all the women you know and how many might have been victims. How many have to live with that memory and all the side effects that come with it? Until we start recognizing how serious the act itself is, how damaging in all manners of life for the length of time the victim lives rape is, it’s always going to be about changing the behavior of the victim because that seems easier…because the act itself seems horrible to the imagination but so few people seem to consider just how depraved and far-reaching it is. Here’s your chance through my words, as vulnerable as they make me here today, to see just one of the many things my rapist robbed me of…. It’s not just a horrible act that can be prevented through modifying potential victims; it’s essentially a murder. The person who existed before the rape is lost and someone almost completely different rises from the ashes of the former self. Like a phoenix with an anxiety disorder and a guilt-complex that keeps it from soaring as high and freely as it could otherwise.

97% of rapists never spend time in prison according to RAINN. Isn’t it time we change that?

And, as always, this is me taking a seemingly light hearted Sunday Confessions prompt and being all preachy about it. That's what I do. But, please check out the rest of the contributions at More Than Cheese and Beer and the always interesting anonymous confessions on the MTCAB Facebook page. 

You Shouldn't Have Worn That Dress (Trigger Warning)

At  13, my father left me alone for the weekend while he traveled to Miami to purchase a large sum of narcotics for later distribution. That sounds much fancier than it really was. More realistically, he went to buy drugs to sell to his buddies. It was something he did fairly often, but on this particular occasion, a guy I knew from the neighborhood happened to stop by to return something he borrowed from me. Being 13 and completely naïve, I let him in and offered up the juicy info that I was home alone until the following night. He asked if he could hang out awhile, and I agreed. We started a movie. I can’t remember which one. I can vividly picture, even now so many years later, certain details of that night, but this one eludes me. I guess it’s not that important anyway. 

When he moved closer to me on the couch, it was exciting. I felt so fucking cool right then. He was two years older than me and already in high school. 

When he put his arm around me, I got butterflies. It was a total internal-girl-scream moment. Like oh my god.  

When he kissed me, I was elated. I felt pretty and wanted for a change. For those few moments that feeling was wonderful, and I ate it up. I did. 

It was when he started to move further that I began to feel scared. I wasn’t ready for this. Third base seems like miles away when you’ve barely rounded first…especially since you know, without a doubt, that making it all the way to home plate is a game-changing event. I moved off the couch despite his protests and assurances. He said everything would be fine. I said I wasn’t ready for any of this as I walked towards my dad’s stereo behind the bar in the adjoining room. I thought maybe I should just play some music and get away from the couch and that whole scene. I felt awkward. Confused. I had no idea what to do and already realized it had been such a stupid mistake to let him in the house in the first place. My intentions were innocent. Obviously, his weren’t. That’s when he tackled me to the ground in front of the bar.

I lost my virginity on dingy brown carpet in front of my alcoholic father’s handmade bar while I cried and pleaded and begged for him to stop.

I told a friend of mine a few days later. She told her mom. Despite the fact that I found myself once again begging and pleading for someone not to do something, my friend’s mother decided she needed to tell my dad. I remember him storming into their house within minutes and bursting into the bathroom where I was waiting on the results of the pregnancy test she made me take. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me through their house telling me all the way that I got what I deserved for being such a little whore.

Those are strong words, and I rightfully cringed at them. But, I find myself almost 20 years later still cringing when I read someone else’s story or when I read blogs, comments, and articles about rape. Most people don’t exactly use such strong terminology, but the message is still loud and clear:

oh, you were sexually assaulted? What did you do to cause that?

Because obviously being in a room with a guy alone means you should expect to be attacked and by doing so, you’re just a little whore who got what she deserved.

Don’t protest and tell me it’s not that way. It is. I read a blog post last night, in fact, where people ripped the poster apart for being around a guy (1). That’s all she did. She went to a party after a show and was around a guy who ended up assaulting her. What were you doing around him alone, people asked, as if being around someone is giving consent to have her orifices violated. That’s how a good percentage of people think, though. I’ve read other articles with helpful tips for women on avoiding sexual assault like the following gems:

1. Don’t drink with men (2).

Really? It’s not about telling men that a woman who is passed out is not a sexual conquest? It’s not about reinforcing the message that silence is not consent? No, it should definitely be about telling women that if they drink with men, expect to be raped and when you are, you were being stupid, so there’s nothing you can do about it now. Because taking a drink in public, of course, means you lose all fucking rights to not have your body violated, right?!!? And then people wonder why so many go unreported. The cold facts are that only 40% of rapes are reported to the police (3). 97% of perpetrators never spend any time in prison for their crimes (4).

2. Don’t go out alone after dark (5).

Okay, have you even looked at rape statistics? Rapists are typically not a man in a shadowy alley way. At least 2/3 of rapes occur between the victim and someone the victim KNOWS (3). So, how is telling a woman that she is responsible for never going out alone after dark supposed to keep that friend of hers from taking it too far on their date? I get that you can’t change the shadowy man in the alley. If he’s going to rape regardless of all the education and deterrence methods in place, then it’s best to avoid putting yourself in a situation where he takes advantage of your vulnerability. But, the bigger problem here is that education needs to focus much, much more on the fact that it’s not the dark, smelly, subhuman monstrosity lurking for prey that is likely to rape you. If it’s going to happen, it’s going to be someone you know. To tell women not to go out alone after dark accomplishes nothing and still puts the ball in our court.

3. If you don’t gouge his eyes, you deserve what happens to you (5).

So, yeah, that whole thing about victim blaming is just all in our heads, right?

4. Be afraid of anyone in need of help (5).

Stopping to help anyone in trouble like that little old lady who has a flat tire is just a ploy to take advantage of our weaknesses, right? Because Ted Bundy’s “good-looking” ghost is waiting right around the corner to hit us with a tire iron and molest our dead bodies. If we fall for that tactic, it’s our fault for being delicate and sympathetic, right?! Again, this is not doing anything about the vast majority of rape cases that occur. It’s not the Ted Bundys of the world doing all the raping. Stop telling me I can’t help someone in need or I deserve to be raped and murdered. Fuck that.

Fuck all of this. There’s no reason why women (or men) should bear the weight of responsibility in preventing their own victimizations nor is there any reason why victims are somehow responsible for their attacks. Everyone should be aware of their surroundings and make better judgments on making themselves vulnerable to a would-be attacker. I get that. RAINN does a good job at providing such tips (3). It should never be about telling mostly women (as in the one article)to stop drinking to excess around the opposite sex yet never tell men to stop drinking to excess and film themselves fucking a passed out co-ed (2). Come on…

To add to that, when I read comments or articles or blogs, there are always people who bring up two very stupid arguments. 1. the victim’s sexual history and/or way she was dressed. 2. false rape allegations.

Rape shield laws are in place to prevent a woman from answering questions about her past sexual adventures in a courtroom. Historically, a woman who enjoyed sex and had sex frequently was never given a fair chance in court against an attacker. She likes sex, so how can she be a victim. That was the mentality. In the 70s, shielding laws began to emerge that prevented a woman from being asked these questions in court, but there are still so many loopholes in these laws. It’s still okay to ask a woman if she had sexual intercourse with the accused on a previous occasion because we all know that giving consent once means you have given consent for the rest of your natural fucking life (6). Oh wait…that’s not what it means. At all. It should never matter who a woman has previously had sex with in her life or how many times. Here’s a novel idea. A WOMAN SHOULD BE ABLE TO DRESS AND FUCK HOWEVER SHE WANTS WITHOUT GETTING BLAMED FOR BEING RAPED. That’s right. I said it. If I like to wear low cut dresses and have sex while I wear them, it does not, in the least, diminish my ownership of my own body to the point where I am *asking* to be assaulted. ANOTHER PERSON’S LACK OF SELF-CONTROL IS NOT MY FUCKING PROBLEM. Crazy, right?

As for false rape allegations…it seems like every guy knows some guy whose cousin was accused of rape. It ruined the guy’s life and then the girl later recanted. I hear it all the time. False allegations occur at max 8% of the time with some reports showing as little as 2% (6). That means that of the nearly 250,000 assaults that are actually reported to the authorities each year, somewhere between 4700 to 19,000 are false claims. So, let’s stop painting the accused as victims of smear campaigns. The vast majority of reported assaults are the truth and that goes without mentioning the 60% that are never reported. When those figures are added in, there are more than 379,000 rapes annually. Even figuring the highest statistic of 19,000 being false claims, there’s still a wide gap. Men aren’t always being falsely accused of rape. It happens extremely rarely despite men perpetrating 99% of all rapes (4).

What needs to happen is awareness on rapist prevention. In one study, 8% of the men questioned admitted to committing an act that would be considered rape. The questions were phrased so as not to include the words rape or sexual assault but did include the term “force.” Of those men, 84% did not believe that their act constituted rape. In that same study, men reported that they have become so sexually aroused that they felt they could not stop themselves even after the woman said no at a rate of more than 20%. Studies have also shown that more than a third of men interviewed would commit an act of rape if they knew no legal recourse would occur (4).

With statistics like those, why, for fuck’s sake…why do rape victims still have to cringe at all the victim blaming while still trying to cope with being a victim? Why do people like me feel like we owe the rest of the world a fucking apology for having the gall to be around some guy who raped us?

It’s time for things to change and awareness is key. And by awareness I mean a rapistprevention campaign and not telling women to wear muumuus and hide in the house after 6 pm.

(1)    http://putyourdamnpantson.com/2013/11/05/guest-post-i-wont-apologize-for-being-assaulted/

(2)   http://www.slate.com/articles/double_x/doublex/2013/10/sexual_assault_and_drinking_teach_women_the_connection.html

(3)    http://www.rainn.org/statistics

(4)    http://www.oneinfourusa.org/statistics.php

(5)    http://www.washingtoncitypaper.com/blogs/sexist/2010/02/04/the-worst-sexual-assault-prevention-tips-ever/

(6)    http://www.vawnet.org/Assoc_Files_VAWnet/RapeShield.pdf