I thought I had found a friend in him. A new friend, a nice guy. He was so sweet. When I was in between homes before moving into my new flat, he offered his flat up to me - even though he wasn’t in the city. He said he would mail me his keys. We were friends. In a new city filled with unfamiliar faces, a new friend is always appreciated; especially one who was so kind.

He knew I was a sex writer, and seemed to be cool with it. I talk about sex openly, not only because I love talking about it, but mainly because I want to demystify talking about sex. It shouldn’t be this taboo thing that we giggle with our girlfriends over. We should be able to talk about it openly and without guilt, judgement, or shame. We should talk about it the same as we would talk about anything, really. This isn’t always a simple task. Talk about sex casually and men will most likely think you’re either a) hitting on them or; b) will sleep with anyone. Women will most likely think that a) you’re a slut or; b) trying to sleep with their men. Not all men and women think this way, of course. But there are enough of them.

Open-minded Lad

He seemed cool with it, though. We would screen capture funny Tinder profiles to send to each other and pick Tinder dates and dare each other to go on them. We talked openly about sex, dating and past relationships. Just as friends do. Friendship wise, this was going great.

Until, of course, that one time he tried to go home with me. I said, "No." He sulked for a few days. We were both drunk, so I gave him a pass, because, alcohol. Then, things got a little weird. Just a little at first; I hardly noticed. A sly phrase thrown in when I was going on a date such as, "Well, he gets your time."

When Things Took a Turn

Then, there was the porn film festival. (Yes, that’s a thing.) I asked him to come along to watch some films. These films were more artsy and political in nature. It wasn’t the usual wham-bam-thank-you-m'am porn films. His response shocked me.

"God, you’re obsessed!" he wrote in Whatsapp.

"With what? Sex?" I replied, hoping he’d say anything but …

"Yes!"

"I’m a sex writer. What do you expect?"

"Haha! I’m kidding!" he deflected. A quick glimpse into his psyche, and then it was gone. I should’ve taken notice, but he apologized. I wanted to believe he was not that guy. He reined it in, and things went on as usual.

More Than Friends?

Of course, it wouldn’t stay that way! Duh. Later that week, he tried kissing me. When I refused and firmly stated that we’re just friends, he told me that he didn’t believe me. Because according to him, he felt something between us. Basically, he wanted to bang me, and my not wanting it was getting in his way. I don’t know why the signs that were blaring a giant red and loud, "Get out! Get out of this friendship now!!" didn’t phase me. Probably because of the past months of hanging out and the good times that we'd had. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He seemed mature. If I could salvage the friendship, I wanted to do that.

That Slut Call

A week later, we were planning for the weekend. I had a party on Saturday, and he wanted to see me on Sunday for a walk (we did this quite often). Knowing I might end up hungover on Sunday, I told him, "I dunno about Sunday! Depends on how Saturday goes!" I would be down for a walk if I weren’t hungover, but if I were, then I’d prefer to just eat lots of carbs and hibernate with Netflix (who wouldn’t?).

His response?

"You’re such a slut! Not. lol"

This is when my brain finally clicked on (gee, thanks, brain). This man was slut shaming me because I didn’t want to sleep with him. He imagined me going to a party and fucking everyone but him, and that pissed him off. I guess because, somehow, I owed him sex for being nice to me.

I stopped talking to him after that. He apologized again and again. Even his apology was annoying. He thought he hurt my feelings. You didn’t hurt my feelings, fool! You annoyed me! You overstepped. You put on your Mr. Nice Guy mask and pretended to be a good friend. When you didn’t get what you wanted, you thought you’d bring me down a peg or two by first passive aggressively trying to shame me, then calling me a slut outright and trying to brush it off as a joke. (And what's wrong with being a slut anyway? Read more in Hate to Break It To You, But You Might Just Be a Slut.)

No Shame My Sex Game

I know what I do, and I choose to do it because I love what I do. I see no shame in liking sex, in thinking that it is a normal part of life. Whether I want to have sex daily, all the time, with everyone, or not, is no one's business except my own. I most certainly don’t need a baby-like, immature, passive aggressive, man-boy trying to manipulate me to fuck him.

Basically ladies, what I’m trying to say here in my long-winded way is, don’t let assholes like this take away your shine. Be vigilant with people (both men and women) who will likely throw shade at you, overtly or covertly, because they’re not getting something they want out of you. They want to bend your will to suit theirs. Don’t let them.