The Reasons I Am Suddenly Tired Of Wanton Touching By Men I Know
The truth about casual but deliberate touch
If you are a woman, chances are high that at some point in your life, you have been disgusted and angered at wanton touching by men you know but don’t share a bond with.
There was a time when I felt shame every time it happened.
I would feel responsible for the violation. “Did I invite the touching with something I said or did? “ I would think. Of course, I don’t beat myself up anymore over being a trollop because now I don’t feel responsible for others’ behavior. But the disgust and anger from past violations remain and this “touchy-feely” story is as much about my feelings as they are about the transgressions.
I say wanton touching because the men do it without reason but definitely with sexual intent.
This kind of touching triggers women’s creep alarm right away. Wanton touching could be an uninvited arm around the shoulder or a squeeze of the hand. It could venture into bolder territory if the man in question is particularly sleazy. Most women are confused about how to deal with it since the men doing it are not strangers.
A lot has been said about women getting groped in public places by men unknown to them, but we don’t talk about the trauma of being groped by men we might have placed trust in.
If anything, it is terrible because it teaches us to be wary of reaching out, helping, or trying to build a friendship.
Why now? Why am I tired of wanton touching all of a sudden?
Maybe because it is only now that I know what a safe space means.
In the past, I was made to feel I wasn’t entitled to be safe because I left my home to work, to shop, or to just be.
I have worked in corporate jobs for 17 years. This means my days were spent meeting people and I was friendly because my job required me to be. I remember with warmth the many men who have been friends and guides during my journey. Those who have taken the longer route themselves to drop me home when I worked into the night. But I also cannot forget that there have been men who assumed my friendliness was an invitation to touch me without consent, touch me in ways that wouldn’t raise eyebrows but were nevertheless wanton.
I quit my job during the pandemic and now freelance from home. Because I spend most days in the seclusion of my home, my hands, my shoulders, and my waist (yes, my waist) are no longer public property.
I finally know what a safe space feels like.
Ask any woman and she will not be willing to talk right away about feeling unsafe in places that are meant to feel secure among people who should have been dependable. But once you’ve gained her trust, she will have stories to tell. Most women have a man in their life whose wanton touching frightens them.
If you are now starting to judge, know that it is not easy for a woman to set boundaries when the man in question is known to her and hides his intentions with the excuse of camaraderie.
This is what happened to me.
As a child of 11, I hated music lessons. The male teacher reprimanded us girls who sang off-tune by holding our arms and forcing us to repeat our lines till we got it right. It was worse if we got it right. He hugged us tight and once kissed me when he thought no one was looking. Not one of us dared to speak up. He was a teacher, so he was respected.
The year was 1999 and I was 19. I was to take private tuition with a college professor. Friends had warned me about him, but I dismissed their hazy “he likes young girls” comment as coming from lasses who liked scandal. I cringed in his classroom for a year confused about his casual arm around my shoulder, on my hand, and once around my waist. I shrunk into myself in his presence thinking if I made myself look small enough to disappear the touching would stop. I thought wrong.
In 2003 I was in management class and getting smarter. I knew how to avoid one of the boys who tried to casually touch the girls when the opportunity struck. A classmate finally asked him why he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.
A few years later a colleague would lay many a casual arm on my shoulder or hold my hand under the guise of a handshake. It looked trivial but it was wanton touching all right. He made a deliberate choice to overstep boundaries.
There have been other times, so many that I find it difficult to list them down.
I am also tired of the wanton touching because I find it difficult to draw boundaries.
Such men feel entitled to women’s bodies. In their twisted minds, the women enjoy the touching. Or at least pretend to be okay with it. If we call them out, we are supposed to be making a big deal of a harmless gesture. Didn’t we give them the friendly vibes so why are we now acting shrewish?
They feel safe when they refuse to acknowledge women’s boundaries because they exercise social control over us. The professors who molested their students you can condemn as men with a Lolita complex. It is easy to see how they had a hold over those they taught. But the “friend” who liked to touch his girl pals also used social control. The girl who called him out told me later she shouldn’t have. It sucked because the guy was popular, and the other boys had his back. My colleague had it coming when I complained to human resources, but I was told I lacked enough proof and eyewitnesses. I resigned from that firm a few months later.
So no, I am not suddenly tired of wanton touching. It’s just taken so much time to sink in.
Either way, it seems to me like the burden of wanton touching is always mine, as the woman to carry. I am a bitch if I speak up. I am a slut if I don’t. Did it strike you anytime I feel revolted by you, but I often simply don’t know what to do because I placed trust in you? And you broke my trust.
I am a freelance copywriter who writes blogs that increase business sales. I like to work with businesses who consider kindness a virtue & want to make the world a better place with their product/ service. You can talk to me on LinkedIn to learn more.
