Recently, I stumbled across an article in some lame woman’s magazine entitled, “Five Signs He Might Rape You,” or something to that effect. I didn’t even need to read it to realize that it was for women everywhere who are fucking morons. Their advice was shit they teach twelve-years-old to equip them with the ability to spot a predatory pervert a mile away. So I got to thinking, noticing a creep is easy if you’re not catatonic, but will a creep notice me? And more importantly, will he know that I am down for a raping?
1. Getting drunk. If we’re on a date and I am getting so wasted that my motor function has dissipated entirely, I’m probably secretly planning for you to sweep me off my feet and into your bed. If I get so wasted I puke on your dick, I was just drinking too much.
2. Making references to being ravaged. If we’re hanging out and I casually happen to mention that I need a man that will slap me around, rip off my panties and screw me without abandon in an alley—well, take a fucking hint.
3. Dressing like a slut. Everyone knows if a woman’s tits are hanging out and she’s dressed like a whore she probably needs to be raped.
If at any point I am dressed like a cokehead at Studio 54, you should probably drag me behind the boat house and rape me.
4. Insisting on watching The Accused together. Nothing says, “I like rape,” quite like watching that Jodi Foster flick. Most Lifetime flicks are equally as awesome. If I suggest we watch any of these sorts of movies while hanging out, just know where I plan for things to lead.
5. Drugging myself. Maybe I’ll take three xanbars and have a couple of glasses of wine, immediately followed up by gurgling all night in a catatonic state. This is where you check human decency at the door and check your penis into any of my orifices. If this isn’t a green light to take advantage of me I don’t know what the fuck is.
