My First Taste Of False Accusal

Being falsely accused of rape has to be a legitimate concern for every man today, unfortunately. The repercussions for women who falsely accuse are far too miniscule compared to the leverage she can exert. If you wronged her, or she is on a power trip, what is stopping her?

From what I can discern, our justice system still requires a least a modicum of evidence to convict a man of rape. Men are acquitted all the time, and the high percentage of false claims is well known amongst law enforcement, and presumably the judicial system as well.

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With that said, my situation is not nearly as dire, but it touches upon the nature of men, women, courtship, and the possible root cause of false accusation.

Here is the backstory: I met a new girl, Jamie, while I was out with some mutual female friends. As an aside, keeping some hot, platonic female friends is an excellent way to keep a pipeline of new girls coming into your life. Jamie’s friends are a little “off”… They seem very innocent and naive in their views of sex and dating, even though they, I’m sure, have had their transgressions like all girls.

So Jamie and I meet up for drinks after some facebook messaging. I’m particularly tired from work, and not on my peak game. Nonetheless, I have her laughing, flirting, touching. Jamie is a tough Italian girl raised in nyc, with dark features and killer curves on her petite frame.

I suggest we bounce downtown for some music at a work-related thing, and she agrees to come along. I hit the bathroom, and when I return a guy is standing over her “buying drinks” while flirting with her. I just walk up behind him and say “… ‘scuse me.” He condescendingly says, “Don’t worry man, I’m leaving. She’s a very attractive girl, but don’t worry.” He pats me on the shoulder for good measure and walks away. I ignore it, but it breaks up the vibe me and Jamie had going on.

We walk back to my car and I hold her hand. When we get into the car, we sit for a minute getting my gps set, and then I put my arm around her and kiss her. She wasn’t ready for it since our vibe had just been broken, and she politely pecked me a couple of times, before I got the message and pulled back. I jumped the gun, but once again I ignored it and tried to move on and rebuild the momentum.

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The next bar started slow; I had to meet someone for work and introduce him to someone else there. I held Jamie’s hand to lead her through the bar, but otherwise things were lukewarm between us. Eventually we hit the dance floor and the prognosis got much better. She had a great time as I twirled her and spun her around, using some of the swing moves I learned back when I took lessons with Longterm. After dancing, Jamie was hanging all over me, really sweet and cuddly.

We headed back for me to drive her home (she had walked to the first bar). Once again, any sexual tension we had built began to fade on the long car ride home. As we got closer I said, “Damn I really have to pee, I should’ve used that shitty port-o-potty…” She politely offered to let me use her bathroom.

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We get inside and a cat runs over to greet us; the first bad omen. I take a solid 90-second piss, and then I walk out, put my arms around her, and kiss her. She kisses me back, but with an amount of passion commensurate to her lukewarm emotions at this juncture.

It would have been more ideal for her attraction to be peaking as we went into her apartment, and that was my only true crime. I was too tired and didn’t give her a dynamic experience to make her want me.

We continue kissing for a couple minutes and my hand moves to her ample breast. She immediately pulls it away, but we continue kissing. Soon I pull back and walk away to explore the living room and kitchen, aloof. I’m still going through my normal motions, trying to increase my chances of banging in spite of the low odds.

She walks over to join me and we kiss a bit more. She has a look on her face like, “Okay, probably time for you to go,” so I figure we’re wrapping up. We kiss for another minute and my hand slides down to explore her juicy ass. Once again, she pulls it away. I ask what the problem is, knowing inside that she simply isn’t attracted enough to me. She says, “I just met you, I don’t do these things right away.” Maybe, maybe not. But it was time for me to pack it in. One last hug and a kiss, a smile, and a “talk to you soon.” I texted her two days later and got radio silence.

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Fast forward a week. Our mutual friend has passively uninvited me from a barbecue she was hosting, and I chalk it up to her not wanting to make Jamie feel awkward for not wanting to see me again. Then I run into another close female friend from the group, who explains it this way:

“Everyone is pissed at you. Jamie said you made her uncomfortable. And she said…” She bit her lip for dramatic effect. “She said… you grabbed her ass.”

Guilty as charged!

“Yeah, I did. We were making out in her apartment for 10 minutes, of course I did.”

“I didn’t know that…”

“What did she say? We were just standing around and then I was suddenly groping her ass?”

“I don’t know. The point is, why would you do that on a first date? That’s inappropriate.”

“I have done far more on a first date… As a man you need to be the one pushing things forward. It’s your job, and it’s the girl’s job to resist until she’s comfortable. That’s the nature of human sexuality. I stopped as soon as she asked me to stop, I don’t see what else I should’ve done differently.”

“Yeah but… a mutual friend set you up with her. You should have been a gentleman out of respect for your mutual friend.”

“A gentleman I am not. I treated her like a normal date, because she was.”

“A first date should be a nice dinner.”

I laugh loudly.

“That’s a terrible first date.”

“Why? Because you’re too cheap to buy a girl dinner?”

“No, because why would you want to put a table, a barrier, between you on your first date? It keeps you static, stuck in one spot instead of exploring the world and getting to know each other.”

“……………Oh. I guess you’re right.”

Funny enough, after all this girl’s holier-than-thou preaching about how she is so chaste and you should be too, another of her girlfriends came and joined us. My friend wasted little time pulling out her phone to show the new girl a picture of a buff shirtless guy. “Who is that, your ex-boyfriend?” the other girl asked.

My friend got a devilish smile on her face. “A fling.”

Oh, sweet sweet irony.

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The moral of this story is that your value to a girl determines everything. The sad truth is that just a few emotional breaks in one direction or the other can mean the difference between her seeing you as a suave lothario or a creepy rapist. Hopefully she is reasonable enough to just not go out with you again and leave it at that, instead of complaining to her friends about it (or her feminist website, or the police). But knowledge is power, and this is one more barometer to keep your eye on.

I believe men must be bold and push for sex at every opportunity. This is how evolution and/or God molded us. With today’s laws and female-biased culture, we must remain strong and support each other as brothers, helping to maintain reason and champion reality, rather than allowing a reverse Salem Witch Trials to cripple the natural order.