Ad 2:
2021-05-28 17:16:15 (UTC)

Damn. I guess I kinda was ..

Damn. I guess I kinda was raped.

When I said "If you stealth me I'll kill you" that wasn't consent, that was me putting up the most solid boundary I could think of at the time.

Consent and sex seems like a weird thing for me, now I think about it.

Or was I... I mean, I was down for some kind of sexual activity, just nothing involving my vagina/vulva, but couldn't seem to communicate that.

The memories of every time I've been disassociated while sexual activity happened to me, easier to recall now.

And why are my sex dreams always rape oriented since the past few years? Even if I'm enjoying it on some level, it's always rape.

Probably my brain is wired all fucked-up now. Or always was. My arousal is rooted in power imbalance and questionable consent. That's my kink.

(But it is also hot to see people just having sex and enjoying it? Maybe I need to look into indie queer porn for my mental health.)

And ironically enough I am seeing a psychosexual therapist and I could be talking about all this with her. We only have 2 sessions left. But I'll just push it down because now's not the time to open cans of worms.

Maybe I'll become reactionary, one of those anti-kink leftists. Certainly, I'm aware that my cop-kink is rooted in political anxiety. But I also can't entirely rule out Marilyn Manson's music videos. But then he's a horrible abuser and rapist and misogynist, so...

Maybe I should just try having vanilla sex with someone I trust.
I imagine I'd feel kinda apologetic, bringing it up with Lot. But also he might understand, if I tell him I just have to see something.

"I just have to see something." Sounds ominous.
"I just have to figure out if I enjoy vanilla sex." But if he's not into it then I won't be either. And sure, I believe he's attracted to me, but it's like 50% me and 50% what we do, at least. IDK. Hard thing to quantify, and I'm just speculating and habitually putting myself down.

I was so heartbroken about James because he was the one person I could do sexual stuff with that didn't come with the assumption that my genitals would be involved. I almost always topped. By cishetnorm standards, we've never "had sex". And fittingly enough, the time I did get my genitals involved was the mistake that ended our shared sex life.

He put so much trust in me.

But also, drugs were involved. Drugs definitely complicate consent, and the nuances of being present with each-other.

I'm so fucking depressed. Maybe I should just take a shower. Or at least wash my face. Yeah I'll wash my face.