“I love you, but f*ck you”: Male pleasure is only 50% of the deal

To my loving boyfriend of fourteen months,

Let’s go over a story. It’s a true story, and I think you’ll find it quite intriguing. It starts just the other night, and, as most good stories do, it starts with us laughing, kissing, and sumptuously feeling in your bed…

We kissed, giggled, you played with my breasts, and you got a boner. But that’s where the typical (questionable choice of words, ladies, as you’ll see) chain of events stops. So two days later, this is what I wanted to politely say to you, until I realized that what you did was anything but polite.

To start, I was very unhappy and disappointed in the way you treated me during sex the other night, and I can tell you exactly why. Overall, I felt very used. You just wanted a blow job, as you (hardly) suavely said afterwards, and didn’t seem to have any regard for whether I enjoyed the experience at all. What if I did the same thing? What if we were making out, I forced you to go down on me, finished, got up to go to the bathroom, and was done? Would you be annoyed and feel unsatisfied/disrespected? Yes. I know you’d think I was a high-maintenance bitch for demanding that. This is a double standard I’ve seen before with you and others, have tried to communicate, and will no longer tolerate.

Sex is not just about men’s pleasure, and I don’t know how to make that any clearer each time I say it. In fact, since I’m on the pill and we’ve agreed I’d get an abortion if I had to, your pleasure is literally no more than 50% of the deal. I am the other 50% of this relationship. God, I wish I had a mother or sister who told me that in high school. 

In any case, I don’t mind giving you blow jobs if a) I’m turned on, and b) I know you’re going to respect me by caring about my pleasure. Neither was true the other night. I was very much not turned on, as I voiced when I told you to slow down and take your time with me, and so giving you a blow job was 100% unpleasant. After 14 months, I expect you to be sensitive enough to me to tell (or listen when I say) when I’m actually turned on. You could have even just felt to see if I was wet (spoiler alert: I wasn’t). I think I know you fairly well and can understand those things about you, aside from the obvious physical indicator that you have a boner, and I’d expect you to tell me if I’m wrong. You tied me up, as you often do, and I did it. Stupidly. I should have used our safety word that I chose so it would not be so severe to use: “Gladiator”, because in college you had the movie poster above your bed.

After you finished and I choked it down, when I felt disgusting for having done it and even less turned on, I became even more aggravated that you made no effort to care for me at all. I’ll reiterate, your semen is NOT the point of sex. By no means is semen the indicator of successful sex, and you and all men who aren’t trying to make babies need to get that out of your head.

At that point in the night, I’d have rather you just gone away and let me watch porn, a thought that is really disappointing to both of us when I remember you are my boyfriend of 14 months (tempting because yeah, I love porn, and it never fails to get me off). In fact, when you finally noticed my disappointment and half-heartedly tried to get me off, you didn’t do it. You could have if you paid attention, but you didn’t, partially because I was indifferent at the beginning and felt way too irritated the whole way through. (PS. You hadn’t even been inside of me yet–there is no excuse but laziness for not going down on me, like I did for you for 10 minutes on my knees with rope around my neck.) And when I asked for your fingers to help, you gave me your cock, and gave up using my clit to make me finish (and you know that’s the only way you can make me finish).

So I gave up, too. But I don’t give up on trying to make you understand, because I still love you. But when you finished (again, and inside of me, you’re welcome) and said, ”Jesus Christ, you took forever,” I would have felt 100% justified kneeing you in the stomach, if not the balls. For how arrogant you were and how used you made me feel. But I didn’t, because I was too shocked that you’d be immature enough to say that. All I said was ‘thanks’ in an appalled, nasty, sardonic tone. As you sat in bed next to me, and then in your roommate’s chair on which you left him the gift of your semen stains, I was so angry with you. I just wanted you to fucking leave so I could picture something dirty and finally get myself off, now that my body was agitated. When you went out to make yourself dinner, I made myself finish twice in four minutes. Clearly, it’s my fault I take too long, and you’re right to not try. Asshole.

Did you notice tonight I was cold, that I abstinently said no to a quickie you requested out of pure selfishness before class? (Whenever you ask, I tell you it’s not enough time to be fun, and you say “for me it is”. I used to laugh and refuse like you were half-joking, but I don’t think you are even slightly kidding anymore, I think you just have the mental-sexual capacity of a fifteen-year-old boy). Yeah, I was still mad.

So you know what? I love you, but fuck you. And fuck me for waiting two days before I will say anything. I told myself I would never hide my anger with silence again. I told myself this when I told you I was so displeased 5 months ago, at which point you had NEVER made me finish, and at which point you would go down on me maybe once every two months. I can count those times on my fingers, honey, but I sucked your dick almost every time because I didn’t think punishment was a good way to solve the problem. But I’m unashamed of that – I’m not a slut for sucking your dick. I wanted to make you happy, and I chose to. But I’m disgusted with myself for letting you do that to me last night.

I broke my promise to myself and I’m angry at myself, but I refuse to be completely at fault here. I’m angry at you too, and I’m sad for anyone else you’ve slept with who never thought to tell you that it isnt true that because we’re women, we are receptacles for semen and don’t deserve as many orgasms as you do. Fuck you, my love. If I had the willpower to give you what you deserved, I’d give you blue balls for every time you’ve given me a ‘blue’ clit.

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One Comment

  1. Posted April 12, 2013 at 1:33 am | Permalink

    Wow, I’m really sorry you went through that. I’m a man in his late 20s and I would never, ever do something like that. Even when I was younger and more naive about gender roles and such (I hadn’t discovered feminism yet, but I was already a liberal), I would never have done what he did. Your feeling of being used is 100% valid. And you’re not completely at fault – not even close! If he’s being the dominant one in rough sex, it’s ALWAYS his job to check in on you every so often, and stop if you aren’t into it. Always. You didn’t ask for my advice, so I won’t give it, but your guy sounds less like a loving boyfriend and more like a real d-bag. And he COULD get better, but he’s already had 14 months to learn…

    At any rate, I really hope you’re recovering OK. Just want to reiterate that you’re not at fault here, not one bit.

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