Dirty little secret time, people: I have a kink for misogyny. An intense, horny, fucked-up passion for men who will treat me like shit. And before I delve into some of my more detailed treat-me-like-shit fantasies, I wanted to do some preamble to explain why this is only ever hot when I’m playing life on ‘sandbox’ mode. What’s horny in my mind and during roleplay is actively horrifying in real life. In case it wasn’t screamingly obvious: that’s why it gets me really wet.

Note that this post includes examples of violent misogyny, non-consent and rape – both the fantasy versions (hot!) and real-life ones (not!). 

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It’s always exciting to introduce a brand new guest blogger, and today’s even more thrilling for me because this guest has recently launched a blog of her own! Say hi to @goddessdeeva, who runs the INGENIOUSLY titled Duct Tape and Daddy Issues, which you should check out if your appetite is whetted by this fabulously fuck-hungry and politically powerful guest piece – about attitudes to sex and why it’s important to question the dodgy messages we’re given about it.

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Note: this piece tackles some stuff about femininity, womanhood, and ‘worth’. I do not believe that any of the things I say about ‘good girl points’ are true and I don’t encourage you to believe or internalise them. But as with all weird notions, sometimes you have to state it to slate it, so I’m allowing myself to be a bit more open about the dark beliefs that power a lot of my decisions, especially in light of some Twitter discussion I’ve seen about why you shouldn’t just keep trying to be ‘good’ and ‘liked’ all the time. Rest assured I’m working on these things.

The other day, at about 11pm, a guy offered to walk me to the train station. We’d been having a lovely evening together – eating dinner that he’d cooked for me because he knows it’s one of my favourites, watching a weird film that we’d chosen together because he cares about my opinion, then enjoying a teasing blow job because when we started getting horny I specifically requested that he let me be ‘playful’ for a bit. It was fabulous. I felt very content. Very… what’s the word? Very heard. Valued. Appreciated. But when it came time for me to head home, he offered to walk me to the station, and this objectively kind gesture made me deeply uncomfortable.

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Greetings! Are you a rambling misogynist cunt? Have you been informed that a particular aspect of your behaviour is creepy or in some cases downright illegal? Would you like to dismiss those killjoys who have decided that your totally normal and fine behaviour (a hand on someone’s knee in a meeting, comments about how ‘buxom’ they look today, or aggressive staring on the tube) is somehow inappropriate? You’ve come to the right place. Welcome to GOTN’s quick-start guide on how to minimise sexual harassment.

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The thing I love about you, my dear, is your passion. You fight for the things you believe in. I love the way you refuse to give in to men who patronise or bully you. You’re a strong woman, you know that? And if there’s one thing people say about me, it’s that I’m a man who loves strong women.

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