Trigger Warning

What makes somebody a molester? And what happens when you get molested? Is there something you have to do or say?

A guy put his hand down my pants at a party. It was fucked up for a lot of reasons. Cause I didn't understand why it was so bad. I was drunk, the room was dark and foggy. All I thought was "Ha, I hope he touched my pubes and was grossed out." I was confused, I immediately walked upstairs into the bathroom, but I was disoriented. I dropped a piece of my costume into the toilet. So there I was wringing it out over the toilet bowl wondering why I was always targeted first. I never, smiled, made eye contact or talked to this dude. He was talking to all kinds of girls, but he went straight for me. I took a step back and said Whoa There. Or something like that to indicate displeasure. But I felt bad. I didn't want to cause a scene or hurt his feelings. That's fucked up. I didn't want to hurt this molesters feelings. He got kicked out eventually for something unrelated, and everybody was angry that I didn't say something earlier. I didn't want to cause a scene. I just wanted to enjoy my evening, for it to be quick and done with and to leave me alone. I didn't really care about kissing him, I didn't want to but it wasn't traumatic. I just didn't care. But don't touch my private parts, or my ass crack or whatever you touched.

It reminded me of when I met this guy on his birthday. I wished him a happy birthday and later offered him my seat when the bar filled up. I was trying to be friendly. He started confessing his love to me and saying how hot I was. How I should come back to his friends place. I laughed and said nothing. I was with a huge group of people who didn't seem to think it was a big deal. I was really really drunk. I kept going into the bathroom to hide. I eventually texted my roommate SOS for loss of what to do. She immediately came to get me. I said I was leaving, he started groping me and making out with my closed lips. My roommate started hitting him with a stick. He didn't seem to notice. I was in a huge group of people who just shrugged.

I saw him again and he was really apologetic. I believed him. I saw him again and told him to come chat with me at the bar. I was trying to make amends since he seems sincerely apologetic. One beer later and hes already making passes at me again. I ignored him and talked to somebody else. People seemed to sympathize with him, but definetly not me.

One time a 50 something year old man walked me and my roommate home. He walked us home and just kept going until he came into our house. We didn't know what to say or do. I hugged him as politely as possible and told him goodnight. I was scared to be alone. I ran away every time I saw him.

Conversely, one time I went over to a guy's house in his late 40s. I tenderly sipped a glass of while shaking with nervousness. Then I took off my clothes and asked him to jerk me off. He was nervous too, he hesitated but I kept pushing it. We were stroking and massaging each other very softly and sensually. We weren't drunk, just two nervous horny people. He came, but I didn't know how to back then. I felt surreal. What the heck was I doing? I was dangerous, but I wasn't in danger. Never were the boundaries crossed. So very gentle, yet raw. Utmost simplicity in lovemaking. Or so I thought. Later on I found it odd, but never gross or scary. Just an amazement that I did that. And I didn't get drugged or raped. And believe me, any bystander would have sickly declared that I asked for it. But I didn't.

The major difference being a concerted desire, equal on both ends and enthusiastically consented to. Even though we were both nervous and hesitant. We both clearly enjoyed ourselves. Even if it was a tiny bit fucked up.