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Mexicanicepick: Difference between revisions
imported>Unknown Created page with " {{spoiler|MEXICANICEPICK WASN'T ACTUALLY RAPED!}} thumb|200px|This is what it sounds like when doves <s>cry</s> shit their pants. A long, long ti..." |
imported>G'orzak |
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==Original Posts== | ==Original Posts== | ||
make it stop | |||
I had a date Thursday night. My date knew seven languages, but not the word "no." [Incidentally, the reason I phrase it like that is because it kills something inside me when I have to come right out and say it. Why so many people think this is a funny joke, I do not know.] | |||
Wednesday night, I'd stayed on the phone with him for upwards of two hours. One of the things we talked about was sex and what I told him was that I did not have intercourse outside of serious relationships. But, that didn't turn out to matter. | |||
During the date, he took me to this lounge area adjacent to a supply shed -- he works in maintenance in my condo -- and we were watching some truly awful movie. We started hooking up. For a while, I resisted my pants coming off, but eventually gave in, and remained in nothing but my thong. When he took off my pants, I told him I wouldn't have sex with him. But, that didn't turn out to matter. Oral didn't happen, but he ended up on top of me. | |||
Several times, he tried to enter me. Each time, I swiveled away and told him that we weren't going to have sex. After three or four times, I pushed him off and got dressed. He began apologizing profusely and asking me to see his side: he is a man, he hasn't had sex in three months, I am attractive, and I should not have taken my pants off if I was unprepared to have sex with him. I told him that he needed to respect me, that these were not excuses, there were no excuses. He told me he didn't want me dressed, I was so attractive. I told him I was attractive with my clothes on. I sat down. After a few minutes, he began to try to take my pants off again. I left. I had trouble getting the door open and as he came over, I was so scared... He let me out, telling me as he did so that I had fucked with his emotions. I went home. He called me three times that night. The first time I said I didn't want to talk to him. The second time I told him to stop calling. The third time I didn't pick up. | |||
This level of guilt is something I could not previously have imagined. Why did I agree to a date with someone I met through my ex? Why did I go there with him? Why did I let him take off my pants if I didn't want to have sex? Why didn't I leave sooner? Why didn't I say "no" more forcefully, maybe then he would have stopped? Why did I try to talk to him? Why did I ever pick up the phone? And I know, I do know that this is not my fault. I know it, but I don't Know it. And I can't shake this. | |||
I feel guilty when I tell people, because I know I'm worrying them. I hate feeling like a burden. I feel guilty for feeling guilty instead of feeling more angry at him. I feel guilty for not having been stronger or smarter. I feel guilty for blaming myself. | |||
I'm scared that he'll call me again. Every time the phone rings, my stomach drops. I'm scared that he'll come here. He has access to my house. I don't even feel fucking safe in my own fucking house. I don't actually, rationally think he would but that doesn't stop the fear. I'm even more scared to leave, though, because he works here and I know he's somewhere here during business hours. Going to get a package from the mailman was terrifying. I feel guilty for feeling so irrationally scared. | |||
I feel guilty endlessly. Endlessly. Its like quicksand. | |||
I wish I could tell my parents, I do. But I can't tell them. They would blame me, wholly and unequivocally. They've been looking, waiting for evidence of my being a slut. When I developped a UTI last winter, my mother asked me what the potential causes were; when I read off chlamydia, she said ah-HA, I KNEW it, NOW you've done it. This was nine months into a monogamous relationship. | |||
We saw a movie a while ago, in which a woman got graphically raped on screen: held down as she cried and begged to be let go. When I was horrified by this scene, my parents told me this wasn't rape because 1) the perp was her ex-husband and 2) she had gone to bed with him willingly. When I asked what they'd do if this happened to me, they told me they'd inform me of my stupidity for having gotten into bed. | |||
When I was between the ages of 11 and 15, my parents had a particularly close family friend whom I hated. He used to be at our house constantly and go on vacations with us. On multiple occasions, at least four off the top of my head, he walked in on me in various states of undress and it always took him a good three seconds to leave. Also, he had a tendency to hug me, which I hated. Once, with my 'rents around, I asked him to let me go twice, calmly, and he didn't. Then, I barked at him to LET ME GO and he did but my mother got mad at me for being rude. I recently brought it back up as something that still haunts me and she was entirely dismissive of my feelings about him and about the episode. | |||
I can't tell them. But, they're already noticing that I'm extremely unhappy and that I keep chaining the door, which we generally never do. I'm so scared that they'll find out or I'll be weak and tell them. It doesn't help that they've chosen THIS TIME to start picking fights with me and giving me endless lectures adrressing all my flaws. | |||
I began writing this last night, but I ran out of strength. I was talking to someone who was distracting me and genuinely making me feel a lot better. I feel guilty for that, incidentally. At 3:30 AM, I got a phone call from an "unidentified" number. The line was disconnected as soon as I picked up. I went and chained my door and did my best to repress the panic. | |||
I stayed up talking really, really late/early. I was awoken around 10:30 AM by a phone call. Sleepily, I picked it up and the name on the screen just flashed in my eyes before I said "hello." It was him. I told him to STOP FUCKING CALLING ME and hung up. He called back, but I didn't pick up. I panicked and called Kirill. No one understands why I'm so scared but I'm SO scared. | |||
I know this is harassment and it is not legal and I could report it, but then I run a high risk of my parents finding out. That's not something I can risk. | |||
Most of my friends have been very, very supportive. However, certain conversations I've had have made me want to claw my skin off. | |||
My friend Chris continually tells me to "just calm down" or some variations on it. When I try to explain that it isn't so simple, he says I could do it if I just realized that I'm not in danger. First of all, I don't think I'm in a great deal of danger, but the fact remains that he not only knows exactly where I live but can physically enter my house. Second of all, even if that was not the case, the sexual assault in and of itself isn't exactly something that is easy to forget. By this I mean that I can barely think of anything else. | |||
Several people have breathed a metaphorical sigh of relief when I told them that he did not actually rape me. As if trying to shove his dick inside me is, you know, okay, so long as I manage to push him away. | |||
Last night, Shaun told me, verbatim, that "it could have been worse and [I] am blessed it wasn't." He defended this by saying I could have been raped, beaten, or killed and it was "dumb" to overlook the dangers that hadn't befallen me. Let me make this EXTREMELY FUCKING CLEAR: | |||
MY SEXUAL ASSAULT WAS NOT A BLESSING. | |||
He said something about having some sort of experience (I assume this was an allusion to his being older than I am), but that is complete and utter bullshit. He does NOT KNOW what it feels like and, more than likely, he will NEVER know. If he knew, he would not DREAM of DARING to say something like that to me. Seriously, what the FUCK? Its enough that I feel guilty for not being able to "just get over it." At least I rationally know that I'm entitled to my pain and it is emphatically NOT OKAY to take that away from me. | |||
Incidentally, Danny, my first love, the one who claims not to be able to forget me and has always said he needs to have me in his life somehow, has not found time to call me, despite my pleading request and my explanation that I needed to talk to a male that I trust. Clearly, its just as well: I have no reason to trust him. He's running out of time to keep me in his life in any way, but I suspect that he's too selfish to know or care until the next time a pang of missing me hits him. | |||
I know I'm a ridiculously open person about basically everything, but I'm beginning to suspect that the reason people are reluctant to talk widely about experiences of sexual violence is because non-supportive responses from people you love/trust feel like getting hit in the head by bricks. | |||
I know its only been two days but I want this to end. This has to end. I know I brought this upon myself (I know I didn't; I Know I did) but I want it to stop. Its not fair, its not fair, its not fair, ITS NOT FAIR. I want it to stop. [[TL;DR]] post about not being raped.}} | |||
<br /> | <br /> | ||
{{bigpic|Mexicanicepick totally insane rant.jpg|frame|280|If someone tried to rape you, wouldn't you oh, say, GO TO THE POLICE instead of spending a year whining about it on the internet?}} | {{bigpic|Mexicanicepick totally insane rant.jpg|frame|280|If someone tried to rape you, wouldn't you oh, say, GO TO THE POLICE instead of spending a year whining about it on the internet?}} |
Revision as of 03:31, 14 October 2011
A long, long time ago, before Last Thursday ever happened, LJ user and trauma survivor Mexicanicepick tried to pick up a man for sex. Wearing a thong helped. After much whoring and begging for it he finally tries to get himself some ass - at which point she cries "ZOMG you sick fuck!" and refuses to have sex with him. He then walks away.
Although Mexicanicepick lead him on she changed her mind at the last moment and he left her alone. Since then she has been ranting on endlessly about the agony she faces every day because she WASN'T raped.
The Horrors of Not Being Raped
—Mexicanicepick is clearly very serious and astute about this subject. |
Despite this it should be noted that while Mexicanicepick is severely sensitive to the word "rape" (which can cause immediate and terrible triggers) she herself has no problem with saying it over and over and over again.
OMG TRIGGERZ!
Warning! This page contains triggers. |
After spending a year battling serious depression and making a slew of codependent friends, all too willing to tell her how awesome and strong she was, she went batshit and became the champion of the almost raped, battling the injustice of someone using the term ass rape behind an LJ cut. The original post that caused much psychological pain for Mexicanicepick, forcing her to relive the experience of not being raped all over again, was made in an LJ Community for rat lovers, in regards to a vet bill. Initially, Mexicanicepick responded to the post not to offer advice or assistance to someone asking for affordable alternatives taking care of their sick pets, but to berate them for their insensitivity using language that makes her uncomfortable. In fact, reliable sources indicate that the writer of the post was naked at the time of posting and may have a penis, therefore Mexicanicepick was almost raped a second time. After her initial post, she left the battle to the legions of almost raped, fat, women who make up the majority of her audience/support network claiming that she did not have the strength to deal with it right now. :/
She responds later, with a lengthy rant about how dumb real rape victims are, no one gets it, she is the most raped of the rape victimsBALEETED!. Please note that those who do not agree with her are obviously pro-rape. No matter how many times they have actually been raped. She gets called out, outlining that she was not even almost raped, she is just a cock tease that got pwned, and too afraid to admit it, using rape as a cover. BUT IT'S AWWRITE!
Original Posts
make it stop
I had a date Thursday night. My date knew seven languages, but not the word "no." [Incidentally, the reason I phrase it like that is because it kills something inside me when I have to come right out and say it. Why so many people think this is a funny joke, I do not know.]
Wednesday night, I'd stayed on the phone with him for upwards of two hours. One of the things we talked about was sex and what I told him was that I did not have intercourse outside of serious relationships. But, that didn't turn out to matter. During the date, he took me to this lounge area adjacent to a supply shed -- he works in maintenance in my condo -- and we were watching some truly awful movie. We started hooking up. For a while, I resisted my pants coming off, but eventually gave in, and remained in nothing but my thong. When he took off my pants, I told him I wouldn't have sex with him. But, that didn't turn out to matter. Oral didn't happen, but he ended up on top of me. Several times, he tried to enter me. Each time, I swiveled away and told him that we weren't going to have sex. After three or four times, I pushed him off and got dressed. He began apologizing profusely and asking me to see his side: he is a man, he hasn't had sex in three months, I am attractive, and I should not have taken my pants off if I was unprepared to have sex with him. I told him that he needed to respect me, that these were not excuses, there were no excuses. He told me he didn't want me dressed, I was so attractive. I told him I was attractive with my clothes on. I sat down. After a few minutes, he began to try to take my pants off again. I left. I had trouble getting the door open and as he came over, I was so scared... He let me out, telling me as he did so that I had fucked with his emotions. I went home. He called me three times that night. The first time I said I didn't want to talk to him. The second time I told him to stop calling. The third time I didn't pick up.
This level of guilt is something I could not previously have imagined. Why did I agree to a date with someone I met through my ex? Why did I go there with him? Why did I let him take off my pants if I didn't want to have sex? Why didn't I leave sooner? Why didn't I say "no" more forcefully, maybe then he would have stopped? Why did I try to talk to him? Why did I ever pick up the phone? And I know, I do know that this is not my fault. I know it, but I don't Know it. And I can't shake this.
I feel guilty when I tell people, because I know I'm worrying them. I hate feeling like a burden. I feel guilty for feeling guilty instead of feeling more angry at him. I feel guilty for not having been stronger or smarter. I feel guilty for blaming myself.
I'm scared that he'll call me again. Every time the phone rings, my stomach drops. I'm scared that he'll come here. He has access to my house. I don't even feel fucking safe in my own fucking house. I don't actually, rationally think he would but that doesn't stop the fear. I'm even more scared to leave, though, because he works here and I know he's somewhere here during business hours. Going to get a package from the mailman was terrifying. I feel guilty for feeling so irrationally scared.
I feel guilty endlessly. Endlessly. Its like quicksand.
I wish I could tell my parents, I do. But I can't tell them. They would blame me, wholly and unequivocally. They've been looking, waiting for evidence of my being a slut. When I developped a UTI last winter, my mother asked me what the potential causes were; when I read off chlamydia, she said ah-HA, I KNEW it, NOW you've done it. This was nine months into a monogamous relationship. We saw a movie a while ago, in which a woman got graphically raped on screen: held down as she cried and begged to be let go. When I was horrified by this scene, my parents told me this wasn't rape because 1) the perp was her ex-husband and 2) she had gone to bed with him willingly. When I asked what they'd do if this happened to me, they told me they'd inform me of my stupidity for having gotten into bed. When I was between the ages of 11 and 15, my parents had a particularly close family friend whom I hated. He used to be at our house constantly and go on vacations with us. On multiple occasions, at least four off the top of my head, he walked in on me in various states of undress and it always took him a good three seconds to leave. Also, he had a tendency to hug me, which I hated. Once, with my 'rents around, I asked him to let me go twice, calmly, and he didn't. Then, I barked at him to LET ME GO and he did but my mother got mad at me for being rude. I recently brought it back up as something that still haunts me and she was entirely dismissive of my feelings about him and about the episode. I can't tell them. But, they're already noticing that I'm extremely unhappy and that I keep chaining the door, which we generally never do. I'm so scared that they'll find out or I'll be weak and tell them. It doesn't help that they've chosen THIS TIME to start picking fights with me and giving me endless lectures adrressing all my flaws.
I began writing this last night, but I ran out of strength. I was talking to someone who was distracting me and genuinely making me feel a lot better. I feel guilty for that, incidentally. At 3:30 AM, I got a phone call from an "unidentified" number. The line was disconnected as soon as I picked up. I went and chained my door and did my best to repress the panic. I stayed up talking really, really late/early. I was awoken around 10:30 AM by a phone call. Sleepily, I picked it up and the name on the screen just flashed in my eyes before I said "hello." It was him. I told him to STOP FUCKING CALLING ME and hung up. He called back, but I didn't pick up. I panicked and called Kirill. No one understands why I'm so scared but I'm SO scared. I know this is harassment and it is not legal and I could report it, but then I run a high risk of my parents finding out. That's not something I can risk.
Most of my friends have been very, very supportive. However, certain conversations I've had have made me want to claw my skin off.
My friend Chris continually tells me to "just calm down" or some variations on it. When I try to explain that it isn't so simple, he says I could do it if I just realized that I'm not in danger. First of all, I don't think I'm in a great deal of danger, but the fact remains that he not only knows exactly where I live but can physically enter my house. Second of all, even if that was not the case, the sexual assault in and of itself isn't exactly something that is easy to forget. By this I mean that I can barely think of anything else.
Several people have breathed a metaphorical sigh of relief when I told them that he did not actually rape me. As if trying to shove his dick inside me is, you know, okay, so long as I manage to push him away.
Last night, Shaun told me, verbatim, that "it could have been worse and [I] am blessed it wasn't." He defended this by saying I could have been raped, beaten, or killed and it was "dumb" to overlook the dangers that hadn't befallen me. Let me make this EXTREMELY FUCKING CLEAR:
MY SEXUAL ASSAULT WAS NOT A BLESSING.
He said something about having some sort of experience (I assume this was an allusion to his being older than I am), but that is complete and utter bullshit. He does NOT KNOW what it feels like and, more than likely, he will NEVER know. If he knew, he would not DREAM of DARING to say something like that to me. Seriously, what the FUCK? Its enough that I feel guilty for not being able to "just get over it." At least I rationally know that I'm entitled to my pain and it is emphatically NOT OKAY to take that away from me.
Incidentally, Danny, my first love, the one who claims not to be able to forget me and has always said he needs to have me in his life somehow, has not found time to call me, despite my pleading request and my explanation that I needed to talk to a male that I trust. Clearly, its just as well: I have no reason to trust him. He's running out of time to keep me in his life in any way, but I suspect that he's too selfish to know or care until the next time a pang of missing me hits him.
I know I'm a ridiculously open person about basically everything, but I'm beginning to suspect that the reason people are reluctant to talk widely about experiences of sexual violence is because non-supportive responses from people you love/trust feel like getting hit in the head by bricks.
I know its only been two days but I want this to end. This has to end. I know I brought this upon myself (I know I didn't; I Know I did) but I want it to stop. Its not fair, its not fair, its not fair, ITS NOT FAIR. I want it to stop. TL;DR post about not being raped.}}
<div class="thumb" style="width:Expression error: Unrecognized word "frame".px; ">
Use scrollbar to see the full image
Notable Quotes
Because all of her journal entires are far, far TL;DR, we at Encyclopedia Dramatica have taken the liberty of selecting only the best bits. All of the quotes below are true. They have not been edited in any way. They did not need to be.
—Most would agree with the original comment. |
Previous Quote | Next Quote
Caution: Not being raped can cause severe suburban self-righteousness syndrome
"But, if that opinion were expressed to me, you will note that I would not flip my shit and cry CENSORSHIP!"
- The original story of how Mexicanicepick was kinda sorta almost raped. NOW DELETED
- The response rant where she claims her title of Queen of teh Victimz. NOW DELETED
- The revised story with 20% more rape. NOW DELETED.
- Mexicanicpick's School of Rape Fakery: When a lack of penetration is not enough to prove your point, add it to the story! NOW DELETED.
- Mexicanfuckstick being pwned in the ass. NOW DELETED.
The Internet will not Take any Moar of her Bullshit
Apparently Mexicanicepick was so disturbed as a result of not being raped that she failed to absorb anything relating to how American government and social reform work. Instead of getting her ass out and voting for candidates who are concerned with women's issues, joining women's organizations, or doing anything else that might have a positive effect on the issues she claims to care about, she prefers to remain sitting on her whiny, white, suburban ass in her parent's condo drama whoring on LJ.
Mexicanicepick's almost-raped butthurt has spilled over to Something Positive. Apparently one of her triggers is Santa fondling scantily clad women, and in response to this comic, Sandy felt it necessary to voice her opinion in the following email:
"I don't mind the filler on S*P. I do my best to overlook what I do mind about S*P and focus on its many redeeming qualities. But this is bugging me and it won't stop: Why does homicide Santa have to have his arm around a woman in low-cut lingerie, matching pumps and garters? Was that really necessary? S*P has this merciful tendency toward fully-clad women that I really appreciate, not to mention the Mike plotline wherein the "nice guy" was beautifully debunked. I find the basic decency of it all stellar and I'd like to cast my vote for more of that.
Thanks.
Best, Sandi"
Randy himself debunked her claims, and, because he's Randy Fucking Milholland, upped the exposed female flesh content in his strip for a week, giving credit where it was due, proclaiming "Tits out for Sandi Burtseva".
Sandi, in her mature manner, instead of taking her internet fame and letting people enjoy themselves, crafted this stunning retort:
"Was that "shout-out" really warranted? I even dropped it, rather than explaining that I caught the reference and still found it problematic. So much for discourse."
Randy pointed out that dropping the subject was hardly discourse, treating Sandi in a more civil manner than an hero of her magnitude deserves.
External Links
MexicanicepickBALEETED!- Sandi Getting Pwned by Something Positive
- bravest-unsaid <- Her New LJ Account w/Email
Mexicanicepick is part of a series on Visit the Sex Portal for complete coverage. |
Featured article December 16, 2006 | ||
Preceded by Slander, Slander Salamander |
Mexicanicepick | Succeeded by Het |