An Open Letter to Gross Guys at the Club

Hi fellas,

It’s me! The individual you harassed, upset, violated, and/or pissed off at the bar or club. Now for a LONG time, I’ve given y’all the benefit of the doubt by telling myself you weren’t actively trying to be the WORST. You didn’t mean to upset or offend me. You were just exhibiting the toxic behaviors made socially acceptable by things like bro culture, rape culture, sports culture, toxic masculinity, and general norms of male entitlement. It’s not like you knew any better, right?

So maybe your friends convinced you that the best way to get someone’s attention is by slapping their ass as they walk by. Maybe your dad told you the key to sexual conquest is latching yourself onto the closest unsuspecting stranger like one of those facehuggers from Alien. Or maybe it was just the short-circuiting of your lizard brain that caused you to rub your crotch on me. Of course, I’m no doctor or scientist, so this is all just speculation. I’ll never truly know why you do the things you do.

But regardless of the “why” behind your actions, I can only wonder how you continue to convince yourself to do things that rarely yield positive results. I mean how often has the person whose butt you slapped turned around and said, “Wow such romance. Take me home, plz!!”? How many times have you gotten the number of the person you sexually harassed on the dance floor? Is there a positive correlation between calling someone an “ugly bitch” for refusing to dance with you and getting some action at the end of the night? I’m no mathematician, but if the odds of these tactics working are only 1/100000, shouldn’t you consider alternative strategies? Albert Einstein once said insanity is “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” If that’s the case, may I refer you to a treatment center? Perhaps an out of state one? Or that one from American Horror Story: Asylum?

You see, I go out for a variety of reasons. Sometimes I go out because I’ve had an incredibly long week at work and need to unwind. Sometimes I go out because I haven’t left my apartment in three weeks and my friends are worried I’m turning into Emily Dickinson. Sometimes I go out because I simply want to dance and get drunk. And yes, there are times when I go out because I’m feeling flirty and fun and potentially looking for male attention. But the point is- it doesn’t matter WHY I go out, and unless I explicitly say, “Hey monkey man, come over here and grind on my butt”, you have no right to assume that’s what I’m looking for.

Just because you paid a $10 cover to get into this club, does not mean you’ve paid for the attention of the people inside of it. Just because people haven’t told you “no” before doesn’t mean you’re automatically given consent from the people around you. Just because you’re horny and overflowing with misplaced confidence does not mean you can get away with violating people’s personal space or making them feel unsafe in a space they are just as entitled to being in. If the “world’s an oyster”, I’m that closed-up clam that you can’t get to open for the life of you, so get to stepping, sir, cuz you’re not slurping any of this.

What you often fail to realize is that your actions affect people other than yourself. I’m sure it stings when you’re turned down or yelled at for your advances. But have you ever thought about how your actions make others feel? When you touch me without my permission, I feel violated and hyper-aware of my body. Instead of being able to enjoy myself, I spend the rest of my night feeling uncomfortable in my own skin. When you make unwanted sexual advances, I feel distressed because I’m forced to engage in a kind of conflict that makes me deeply uncomfortable. And for many of us who have experienced sexual assault, being groped by a stranger triggers memories and feelings we’d rather not experience. So yeah, your pride may be hurt, but you made the active choice to embarrass yourself. We didn’t get a say in being violated.

From now on, I’m going to hold you to higher standards. If you touch me without my permission, I’ll sprain your wrist OR just ask security to remove you from the club. If you sexually harass me, I’ll find the nearest glass of wine and throw it in your face. If I can’t find a glass of wine, I’ll settle for the nastiest cocktail in proximity. The club is not the place to educate people, and I’m not obligated to take time out of my evening to explain the nuances of rape culture to you.  If you don’t understand consent by now, odds are you’re actively choosing to be ignorant, and as an adult, you shouldn’t be treated with kid gloves. You should be screamed at/humiliated/guilt-tripped until you finally understand and accept that certain behaviors are just not acceptable under any circumstance.

Next time you see me at the club, treat me with respect or stay 10 yards away (at minimum). Next time you think about touching someone without their permission or think about how you’d feel if someone violated your personal space.

Don’t be a cock or a chicken fucklet, be a human being.

OR STAY AT HOME AND MASTURBATE TO BREAKING BAD!

Sincerely,

Literally everyone that isn’t you!