It Makes Me Sad

It makes me sad that the majority of search terms used to come to this site are related to my post about my own personal experience with rape.

I could go into how pervasive rape culture is our everyday lives, but instead I’ll list just five of the many posts out there who word it so much better than I:

Rape Culture. My Culture. – Goodeye McWoowoo

“Roast Busters” ie let me tell you a rape joke – gintearsandcremebrulee

Fuck off, Bob Jones, and everyone else: stop reading the Herald – QoT

Persephone Syndrome – Maggie Mayhem

Risky Business – tallulahspankhead



If you’re reading this anywhere but That Girl, Fae or a feed reader without attribution, it has been STOLEN! Who knew that my stuff was that good? ~ Fae

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That Girl, Fae by R Simpson-Large aka Fae Teardrop is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 New Zealand License.

Sour Grapes Don’t Make Good Wine

Through life we each follow our own path. Sometimes that path is rocky and steep, you may have someone there to help you along, you may not; other times it’s pretty smooth and easy, nothing more than a causal stroll. It may be short, it may be long. Each is different, and we only truly know our own.

There is no point getting pissy because you perceive someone else’s path to the same point as easier than yours, that they had a ‘easy in’. It doesn’t invalidate their journey there. It’s also handy to note that perception isn’t always reality. It’s not your path, you don’t really have any idea how things came to be, and you don’t have any right to judge people on your own assumptions.

So what if part of their journey looked easier? The odds are that at some other point, either in the past or the future, you will be the one who has the easier route. Ease of journey doesn’t make anyone more or less superior.

Just because someone does something differently to you, doesn’t mean that they’re doing it wrong. There is no one right way. What if everyone went through the exact same experiences, at the exact same time in their lives? That there was only one way of doing things? Imagine how boring that would be! The same goes for the everyday. It’s impossible to get progress in anything if we all do things the same way.

Sure you can help others by sharing your own experiences, but remember that education is supposed to build and grow, not shut down and restrict. You might have a whole lot of different experiences behind you, but that doesn’t mean that you know everything about anything, nor the best way for someone to get to where they want to be (which may or may not be where you are). Not everyone is able to start at the same level, and people progress at different rates. You were able to jump right up to a high level and have been screaming ahead ever since? Good for you. That doesn’t make you a better person, or a worse person for that matter. It just makes you different to the other guy. And getting stroppy because others might not want to do things the way that you do? Tantrums don’t look cute on two-years olds for very long either.

By refusing to give credence to the experiences and journeys of others, you only succeed in bringing everyone down and making things bitter, while coming across as a self-entitled, toy-throwing, judgmental arsehole. And no one likes an arsehole.

No Right Turn: Institutionalised misogyny in the UK

You can find the background and Idiot/Savant’s thoughts here:

No Right Turn: Institutionalised misogyny in the UK.

Cause, you know, there’s only one way of acting when you’re a victim. If you act any other way, then you’re obviously lying. You made it all up, and were never a victim at all.

I mean, why wouldn’t you tell the authorities that you were withdrawing the charges because the accused and his family were threatening you? Oh, I don’t know.. maybe because they were threatening you!?

Privilege, you’re doing it right, unfortunately.

My Rapist was my Boyfriend

There have been a number of conversations lately regarding consent. After reading this article by Tracy Clark-Flory about safewords being ignored, I decided it was time I talked about my own experience.


When I was 23, I was raped.

It took me a long time to realise what happened was in fact rape. I had thought just acknowledging it would be enough to come to terms with what happened, and it did, for a short time. I hope by talking about it now, it will give me some closure, and perhaps stop the same thing from happening to at least one other person.

I was young, inexperienced, naïve and in my first BDSM relationship. French was my Master, and I was his submissive. I was completely infatuated with him, and trusted him completely. I couldn’t talk to anyone else about the relationship, because I was French’s secret mistress, and he didn’t want it getting back to his partner. I got it in my head that because they were having problems, he would leave her for me, and to help that happen, I would do anything to please him.

One night French sent me a text to say he was coming round. I was to meet him at the door completely naked, or we would have anal sex (which we had not had together up until that point, because I was not ready, and had told him so, repeatedly). That was the whole extent of the negotiation. No discussion of safewords, hard limits, or anything else. I didn’t think I would ever never a safeword. Why would I? I (thought I) was in love with French, and trusted him completely. He would never force me to do anything I didn’t want to do. Would he?

I was living in a flat by myself at this point. So I had no safety back up, someone to help me make sure nothing went wrong. Again, I didn’t think I would need to.

I sat on the couch, naked under my bathrobe, eagerly awaiting French’s arrival. He knocked, I disrobed, and opened the door. I thought (mistakenly) that this would show him that I truly had no desire to engage in any anal sex with him that night.

French led me to my bedroom. Some foreplay ensued. He grabbed a condom, put it on. Then it happened. He flipped me over onto my front and pinned me down. I tried to get away, while saying “No! I don’t want to!” He ignored my pleas, even though consensual non-consent was not part of our dynamic (I didn’t even know such a thing existed). There was no preparation, no lube. I stopped struggling, and lay there silently, trying to move into a position where maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much, just wanting it to be over.

When he was finished, I felt numb, unsure what had just happened. Rape never even crossed my mind, after all, he was my boyfriend. Boyfriends don’t rape their girlfriends.

I ignored whatever I was feeling. Dirty. Used. After putting my bathrobe back on, I joined French on the couch, and we watched Project Runway together. And he went home.

A couple of weeks later, French and I parted ways. I had met J, and, after falling for him completely (for real this time), wanted to be exclusive.

About two years later, French got in contact with me again. By this point I had realised the true extent of what had happened, and I told him as such. He sheepishly said he didn’t realise, and had just gotten caught up in the moment. I believe that was his “apology.” I have not talked to him since, and have no desire too.

I know now that I, in no way, deserved what happened to me. I had followed the rules, and he had taken advantage of my innocence.

I don’t regret what happened though, it has helped make me who I am today, and I’m pretty ok with that person.