People use Kickstarter to raise money for all sorts of dubious projects. Celebs funding movies. Celebs funding albums. Tips on how to rape women.
Wait, what?
Oh yes. Behold, Above The Game: A Guide To Getting Awesome With Women, by Ken Hoinsky of Connecticut, a new book that conflates advice on how to date rape women with tips on seduction. Keep reading »
Why, Chris O’Dowd, why? The “Bridesmaids” actor and his wife Dawn O’Porter, a writer/documentarian, are hands-down my favorite celebrity couple. Which is why I was bummed to see O’Dowd tweet what basically reads like a date rape joke. “Drop the hand” is Irish slang for fingering or groping someone, which means he tweeted that he was going to “sneak” amaretto in her food on date night so he could finger her.
First of all, that’s a dumb joke. It doesn’t make sense. Who puts amaretto in food? Second of all, even though it was a joke (these two tweet all the time about both sex and getting drunk, which is why I like them), cracks about sneaking liquor into someone so you can get sex out of them are date rapey and not cool. It’s not “naughty” or “mischievous”; it’s gross. [Twitter.com/BigBoyler]
Usually movies like Tyler Perry’s “Temptation: Confessions of a Marriage Counselor” are right up my alley. You don’t see a Tyler Perry film because you’re under any illusions it will be good. At their best, Perry movies excel at hitting the sweet spot of terrible, the kind of bad movie you can’t wait to pick apart with your friends afterward. Why else did I go see “Twilight: Breaking Dawn — Part 2″ in theaters? I was under no illusions I was seeing a good film. I wanted a glorious waste, and boy, did I get my money’s worth. Michael Sheen’s evil laugh was worth the price of admission alone.
Like Tommy Wiseau’s “The Room,” Perry’s films aren’t so much made as they are loosely cobbled together, and it’s fun to point out the seams in his craftsmanship. The sound design is terrible, the acting is all over the place and the film takes place in about seven different genres simultaneously. “Temptation” can’t decide if it wants to be a melodrama, high camp, a morality play, a broad comedy, a Lifetime movie or a potboiler, so it makes the proceedings into a $5.99 buffet — a little bit of this, a lot of that, doused with camp and unintentional humor. Douglas Sirk would have loved Tyler Perry.
However, despite my best efforts to find the film funny, there’s something immensely troubling about the morality slopped in with Perry’s genre stew. The film is about a Christian woman’s destructive sexual awakening and an affair that leads her away from her marriage. “Temptation” initially feels like a rebuttal to readers of Kate Chopin (or, heaven forbid, E.L. James) showing how passion can destroy the stability we take for granted. The main character is the therapist for a “Millionaire Matchmaker”-type who has her wandering eye on a billionaire client. He looks like a male model, is named Harley and drives a red sportscar. He espouses the belief that humans should have sex like animals. [Spoilers after the jump!] Keep reading »
Nearly four years ago, while I was on a third date with a man, I was raped. For a long time, I wouldn’t have been able to write that sentence. I would have equivocated. I would have quickly followed it up with minimizers like, “I was drunk.” Or, “I’m OK. It wasn’t violent.”
These statements are all true. I was drunk. The rape was not violent in that I wasn’t physically injured. I am OK. At this moment in time, I am comfortable saying that these factors still don’t make what happened my fault. I said no to him repeatedly. That, I am sure of.
In light of the Steubenville rape case, I feel the need bubbling up to reflect upon my rape again, as it often does when there is a prominent rape case in the news. While CNN is busy mourning the lives of the young, convicted rapists, I’m thinking about 16-year-old Jane Doe, and how this will change the course of her life. I refuse to mourn her life, because that implies that she will let being raped define her for the rest of her life. I pray that’s not the case. But I know that being raped will affect her in so many unexpected ways, as it has me. Keep reading »
Recently I went home with a kinky man after our first date. The experience phased in and out of being consensual throughout the night. I distinctly left his apartment feeling violated and I continued to feel violated for several days after.
We found each other online because both of us were interested in dominant/submissive (D/s) sex, particularly in spanking. I thought this man would be dominant in bed, as per his online dating profile and a conversation we’d had about it on our date. But instead of just dominant, he was controlling. Before we started playing, I told him the “safe word” I wanted to use. A safe word is a word or phrase used by kinky people during sexual play that they want the play to stop immediately; I never play with a partner without one. To my surprise, this guy told me that safe word I chose was “terrible” and to use something else. That raised a red flag right off the bat.
Another red flag came at one point during play when he called me a “bitch.” I’m not against being called names in bed. In fact, with a partner whom I know and trust, being called a “bad girl” or a “slut” can be really hot! But we never had a conversation about using words like that, and if we had, I would have told him that the word “bitch” was not OK with me. Keep reading »
Almost a year ago, I wrote an essay about having been date raped in college. The piece got a strong reaction from commenters, many of whom debated whether or not I had given or not given consent for this guy to have sex with me. Much of the back-and-forth centered around the fact that I didn’t realize that penetration had actually occurred until days later. I had had a few beers, it was dark, I was a virgin and generally sexually inexperienced, and I had told him explicitly that I did not want to have sex yet, all of which added up to me not realizing what had happened until he told me.
I perceived this man to be “a nice guy.” (We had a good date. He was funny and smart and liked animals. He seemed trustworthy.) He genuinely seemed surprised that I hadn’t realized he had penetrated me, that he wasn’t able to “help” himself. That’s what he said: “I couldn’t help myself.” I still clearly remember his tone — it was sort of sheepish, but also complimentary, as though he was trying to flatter me by saying he couldn’t stop himself from doing what I said earlier not to do. As I thought about it in the days after, I excused his raping me as a breakdown of communication. He hadn’t meant to rape me, so therefore it couldn’t be rape. Besides, he was a nice guy and nice guys just don’t rape. Keep reading »
Before my big move to college last year, I can’t tell you how many times my mother told me how I had watch my drink at all times while out with my friends. My mom had good reason to be badgering me with this crucial piece of advice: according to the U.S. Department of Justice, a woman is sexually assaulted every two minutes. Not surprisingly, there is a market for anti-date rape products … such as the first reusable anti-date rape straw. Keep reading »
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