For the purposes of this article, I’ve identified the man using a name other than his own. “Tye” is a 30 something definitively black man living in Queens. Perfect skin; chiselled cheek boned, artistic creative personality, and even musically gifted — when I met him at 19 I thought I had been living in a wild dream that couldn’t have possibly been real.
Even at 19, the idea of romance (let alone a “New York Romance”) was equally enlightening as it was problematically scary. But despite his suave personality; artistic and generally attractive nature — I knew something was amiss about what he wanted despite what he had told me otherwise.
“Tye” taught me to empathetically be able to tell someone “no” when they approach me solely on the basis of sex even when they tell me that isn’t the case. At 19, I was questioning my own sexuality as I was what particular (“position”) I preferred to be in within a gay relationship. This left the sentiment that I could be either or but I knew to be a bottom meant that sexual encounters in that nature would be a lot more emotional than being particularly a top.
This is where his true colours came out. Comments about my young slim body; my “phat ass”, constantly telling me I looked hot-and-young, trying to invite me to hideaway hotel rooms (under the guise we’d have a fun weekend together but what that really meant was to fuck”.)
It never seemed to get through to Tye that I was A) a human and B) very much romantically into him in a way that would’ve led to a potential relationship. I think one of the most heartbreaking things that Tye taught me was that some men don’t need. to have consent, they’ll take it upon themselves to force things and when they don’t get it it’s on you and you’re the bad guy.
When I was that young I didn’t quite understand what “toxic” meant. But as I got older and I. encountered “Tye” again when I. was 20; 22, and 24 it all remained. the same. The unwilling objectification of my body remained a focal point of his interest — and then it happened. The last time I experimented with sexual activities that I am not normally interested in, “Tye” was the one who I. attempted it with for the first time after several years of knowing him.
I realized he was unforgivably toxic when he told me. that he. was interested in me and then all of a sudden. when sex. was refused. (and then refused again after his first failed attempt) we “were suddenly no longer on the same page.” Even. then he could still. send me. text messages talking about “I would love to fuck you right now.”
It taught me more lessons than I could’ve ever imagined. Thankfully he couldn’t even get it in let alone do it at all — but sitting before a man who could willingly try to force himself inside of me and did so even though I repeatedly. told him it. didn’t fit; this wasn’t working, and that it hurt reminded me that. I will never be anything more than a body to Tye. A tight young body that feeds his need to feel dominant.
I’ll always remember that night. “Just take it.” were his words. Realizing what I realized about Tye made me realize that men like Tye will never see men like me as anything more than objects. Had I actually been a “bottom” and preferred to be that way (rather than just experimenting for the last and final time) I would’ve been far more offended than I actually was.
Because I can’t imagine what some of these bottoms out here go through actually being interested in someone only to find out that you’ve been used for sex. When “Tye” got mad at me and refused to speak to me for the rest of that night, those were the stark realizations I came to discover.
A lesson? Indeed. My self-worth was reinvigorated that night because although difficult I told him the next morning that I could not be someone’s toy; I was not in business to be used, and the fact that my ass was more important to him than me was all the reason I couldn’t be his friend anymore. His consciously deceptive way of making or attempting to make me believe that wasn’t the case had always been the core point of tension.
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