I never read E.L. James's books but after taking a few psychology classes, I got really interested in why they became such a phenomenon in the first place. As a result, I read lots of articles and watched tons of YouTube videos on the subject. And while it still remains a mystery to me, I did learn lots. Namely that situations like relationships with individuals deemed "dangerous" are only considered "sexy" under very specific circumstances. In the academic world, this is called Performative Consent. It's essentially pretend danger- not real danger. People indulge the illusion of risk and control without actually engaging in it in real life, although such situations can still have some risk. This is what keeps it sexual; it needs to be basically illusionary for it to "turn us on". Why? Because real danger isn't sexy. To quote an online lecture I listened to: it is the illusion of danger that is arousing. But the moment one of the partners feels genuinely afraid, it is no longer sexy.
Why am I saying all this? Because I used to be so innocent; there was a time, like for all of us, that I didn't know anything. Bad boys used to be cool back in high school; it was hot when the boy just grabbed the girl and kissed her. I adored the movie Sixteen Candles. But now my views and tastes have rapidly changed. I no longer find dangerous bad boys- in fantasy or reality- sexy because I know what real fear is like. It is easy to think the way I used to when nothing actually bad had happened to you in real life; unfortunately, I can no longer say this is my case. I wish it was different and I was still that innocent trusting girl, but I'm not. I'm not….
Josh, Margot, and I all went to Brussels one weekend in May. Josh and Margot were going to meet me near the Grand Palace while I was coming back from a movie; 2016's Beauty and the Beast in Dutch. I was twenty-three at the time which meant that I was a lot warier and more cautious than prior years. Luckily, or unluckily for me, town square was jam-packed; it always was at this time of day. I made Margot and Josh promise to meet up with me before dark and the sun was already starting to set. A hint of worry washed over me as I manoeuvred through the crowds.
Like usual, there were tons of people trying to sell tourists souvenirs all around. I came across one man- and I do mean man. He looked like twenty years older than me; wide but not tall, with a balding bulging head. The moment he spotted me, he flashed me a toothy grin. I felt immediately disgusted and tried to avoid eye contact. That didn't deter him though. "Hi beautiful," he said in his raspy English. Beautiful…. someone his age shouldn't be calling me that; he was old enough to be my dad. I wanted to get away but couldn't move sideways due to the crowds. The man took the opportunity to try and solicit to me. "Look, two for ten," he held up a ring full of bracelets and other tin trinkets. "But for you, half off," his smile grew intently.
I couldn't manage to verbally respond; my throat was cotton. With the upmost effort, I used all my strength to force the faintest grin as I slowly shook my head. Sensing it was time to get the hell out of there, I somehow pushed forward past some people. It felt like I had gotten away for a moment; just a moment…..
Then, to my absolute shock and horror, I felt a rough, firm grip on my forearm; not my wrist, my upper arm. The pain hit first- it felt like getting my blood pressure checked at the doctors. Spinning my head around, my eyes grew in terror to see the same man holding onto me. His smile was completely gone, and his expression was horrifying- simply frightening. His eyes sharply sliced the space between us, cutting over to me. And that's when a horrible familiar feeling started to swell all over my body. Every part of me began to feel hot, my vision blurred and sharpened at the same time, and colors became more vibrant as my senses flared- not in a good way. I knew in less than a second that if I didn't away from this man, I would have a full-on panic attack. And all I could think about after that was his hand on me; his gross, fat, strong hand holding me in place, right where he wanted me.
"You deaf?" He hissed, not hiding the venom in his tone. "I asked you a question." Now, you think such a scene would attract attention but believe it or not, this sort of thing was common in Europe. Hence why I'm like this now. My heart beat rapidly right then; so rapidly I thought I might have a heart attack. Then, I'm not sure why- maybe the adrenaline finally kicked in- but I found the strength to say something. Even yell. "Let go of me!" I wasn't yelling at him per se, but everyone who has ever touched me like that before. I was sick of being the victim; I was a victim when I was twenty-two years old and that was enough. It was not ok for men to grab me like that- it was not ok.
Within the blink of an eye, I yanked my arm out of his grasp somehow; to this day, I don't know how I did that. Without looking back, I ran as fast I could to the castle. My vision was just blurry now as my tears were blinding me. Josh was already there, waiting for me and Margot, who left for some reason. I saw him before he saw me, but he spotted me soon enough. Before he even had a chance to say my name, I raced into him, grasping desperately at his shirt. It was only then that I broke down, crying into his chest. In lieu of Margot, Josh responded first with alarm then sympathy. Without asking me what's wrong, he merely wrapped his strong arms around me. Despite Josh holding me, I could still feel where the brute grabbed onto my arm; there definitely would be a bruise the next morning. And he understood; without me saying a word, Josh understood. While I just cried and cried, my best friend gently cooed and rocked us side to side. "It's ok; I'm here," he comforted in the sweetest, most reassuring tone. "No one can hurt you now, I'm here."