How do you know when no means no when no also means yes, please, more, hell yes and is also completely irrelevant? (aka How To Understand Consensual Non-Consent)

...the short answer is, you don't. 

One of the most important things I learnt from my last relationship was that you can give away your right to say no but you can't always keep yourself from feeling like saying no. I never said no, and when and if I did he had the right to ignore it completely because that was what we agreed on. However even as the word no out of my mouth was one of those things that was completely meaningless, it came from somewhere. Sometimes I really meant it. Sometimes I really wanted him to stop and when he didn't, it had an emotional-mental impact similar to trauma. Consent is a great thing but it is not magic. I can consent to whatever dynamic I want, but I cannot promise that simply consenting means it will always be a bed of roses. 

It wasn't. 

Sometimes, it *really* works and when it does I find this dynamic extremely satisfying. So much so that even after how things ultimately turned out with my ex I am still trying it again. When it works, within its confines, having your agency undermined does not feel like violation. It does not feel like rape to be fucked when you don't want to. It doesn't feel infuriating to be spoken for. When it works. The thing, that I have found, is primary to making it work, is timing. 

Sex, and to a larger extent relationships, are not santized cookie-cutter entities in which everything can be pre-negotiated and everything will go according to plan. The temptation to make them function that way is high. Initially, that was a big part of the allure of d/s relationships to me. I make fun of contract- fetishes but actually I understand them. I understand that maybe given the same option if I could have the guidelines of my relationship set in stone, I wouldn't laugh at the idea. It's comforting, in a way, to have the power to refer to a written document to settle disputes. Ultimately though, I recognize that the method in which I wish to use the "contract" concept only furthers my pathology of needing control over life and isn't sexual expression in any way *at all*. It wouldn't be a good idea for me, I would most likely abuse it. 

It's much better for me to have to accept that everything doesn't go right (which I also refer to as my way) all the time. See that's harder than it sounds and in different relationships different parts of it are  hard. With my ex, I *knew* when it went wrong but such was my view of myself that I figured if it was *really* wrong, it wouldn't make me wet? So I couldn't accept that anything was wrong. I could make the case for it quite well. Technically, *nothing* was wrong. I could make the case from his point of view quite well too. He merely exercised the rights I willingly surrendered. Nothing was *wrong*. 

Except the timing. 

It makes a huge difference when you ignore it when someone says no; it makes a difference *when* you make a move to violate. He hit me when he was disappointed in who I was as a person. He ignored it when I said no at times when I told him in many other words that he should let me be. To ignore it when I already feel vulnerable has a much higher impact that using the ignorance to make me feel vulnerable. 

But even if you have perfect communication with your partner, which I believe I now do. Well, it's not perfect but we communicate well enough. We're clued in to the nuances of each other's behavior. It is much less likely that he will ignore a no I really mean. *Much less likely*. Not completely impossible. 

And that's the other thing I had to accept. If you dive into a wreck, you run the risk of being wrecked and much in the same way, when you give your partner the right to violate you, you run the risk of it triggering you. No one is making me play this way, but this is what I (and we) want. No one is saying this way is "right" but I am saying that if you do play this way, understanding what* *could* happen is important. 

It doesn't always work. 

Two people can love each other and know each other very well but we are, after all, people. We are moving targets. We change. We evolve and sometimes overnight we pick up new behaviors and ideas and it may take your partner a while to adapt. It may take you a while to understand the ways in which you are changing. And in that, it may happen, that your partner might do something to you that *does* feel traumatic. That's the risk. When it works it's the hottest sex you'll have, when it doesn't it carries the potential of causing actual damage. It's like one of the Instagram models who take adventurous selfies, it's all fun and beautiful until someone falls off a cliff. The same way, it's all fun and erotic, until someone feels raped. 

And when that happens, how do you know if it's..okay? 

How can I know today that the exact same incident with two different men doesn't mean the exact same thing? How do I know whose fault it was? How do I know my perfect relationship won't devolve into the perfect nightmare over the course of years? How do I know if I am doing the right thing or retrospectively withdrawing consent? Am I even allowed to do that? Is anybody? Did I make a mistake by engaging in a dynamic of this sort? Is the damage worth it? 

Once again, the short answer is — I don't know. 

When shit hits the fan, all your precious belongings get splattered and everything you hold so dear starts to stink. You can't tell if a mistake is a mistake or a pattern. You can't tell if you're experiencing honest emotions or acting out. You can't decide if you should feel sad or guilty, and you can't deny that you feel both. 

Because it is not easy. When I am feeling violated I withdraw deep inside myself and become a person who is willing to pardon anything. In that moment I can only tell you what I observe as the primary difference between him and my ex. My ex relished the trauma; he loved it when I was too broken to be myself anymore. But not him. He feels inordinately guilty and tries too hard to make me feel better. Neither necessarily work but one of decidedly better than the other. It helps in a huge way when we are both ready to acknowledge that mistakes were made. It doesn't always make us feel better but we suffer together. 

And ultimately, the suffering turns into a conversation and I am able to tell him exactly what went wrong and he is able to tell me exactly where he was coming from and we are able to decide where we never want to go again. The important thing is not to blame each other, I think. It's hard, sometimes, because having someone to blame makes things easier but if you did trust your partner enough to go down this road with them, and you are making the effort to steer clear of denying the reality of your situation, you have to believe in the love that is at the heart of all of it. 

If you come out of it feeling like you should call the cops or run to your friends (instead of your partner) for comfort, then perhaps there are more warning signs within that dynamic to pay heed to. If you feel like your partner isn't there to provide for you (unless that is part of your dynamic too), then maybe it's not right. If you feel like you were the only one impacted by the things that went wrong, then perhaps you're the only one in the relationship taking responsibility. I ignored my feelings in my previous relationship, and ultimately I was the only one who suffered for it, and I was the one still making excuses for his behavior. 

I want to say I don't do that anymore, but I do, the difference is that I have a partner who stops me and takes his own responsibility in the matter. He doesn't ascribe mine to me and I don't choose what he feels guilty for and when, by ourselves, we are able to come up with a fair assessment of the situation without bearing any malice towards one another, that's the best we can do. 

Of course, we could just start playing scrabble instead, but cunts get wrecked in Scrabble! Zzzz.