Prometheus and I went for a little holiday, just two nights. It was really a glorified day trip to the zoo, but the zoo was too far away for a comfortable day trip, so we made a weekend of it.
After the zoo, we were in our hotel room, reading books and relaxing. My thoughts turned towards getting some dinner, and Prometheus was horny. I was not horny. I wanted my tea. But Prometheus wanted pre-dinner sex, and I didn’t mind as long as I still got to eat, so we kissed and groped and took our clothes off. When he asked if I wanted sex, I said something along the lines of “Alright then.”

“Do you want to?”
I thought about that for a moment.
“Honestly? I am willing.”
“Then let’s go and get dinner.”

Prometheus felt really bad about this, and so did I. He was upset to have misread me, to have thought I wanted sex when I didn’t. I was upset that he was hurt by my willingness. I was reasonably indifferent to the offer of sex: I wasn’t hungry for it, but it’s pleasant, so meh, I didn’t care.
Prometheus wanted me to care. He doesn’t want to have sex with me unless I want to have sex with him. He has a point: where’s the fun in mere willingness?
I agreed to have sex with him because he wanted it, not because I did. Why I did so is a very good question – I’m not sure myself. I have a lot of mixed-up and contradictory ideas about sex in my head and my reasoning is not usually, well, reasoning. I do what seems like a good idea at the time.
Why did it seem like a good idea, then? What are the ideas about sex that make having sex when I’d rather be eating my dinner a better idea than saying “Can we do post-dinner sex instead”?
Men always want sex. Have sex with him or lose him. Good girls say yes. Lie back and think of England.
I didn’t decide not to say no; it just never occurred to me. If you can’t distract him before you get to taking off clothes, you’ve missed the boat and you have to say yes unless there’s a seriously good reason not to, and “I want my tea” isn’t a good enough reason. You can’t just outright say no! You can suggest other activities and demure and stuff, but you can’t deny a man sex. It isn’t fair. It isn’t done.

I’ve been brought up to lie back and think of England, and by that I mean my mother instructed me that that precise action would sometimes be necessary. It’s a stupid and unreasonable rule and I wish it wasn’t in my head. Among other things, it leads to domestic discord. More importantly, it violates Prometheus’ consent if I say “yes” for any other reason than desire. He only wants to have sex with me if I want to have sex with him. His offer of sex is conditional on this principle.

How do you clean this rot out of your head?

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