“the problem with dating men is that there is often no smoking gun — no terrible crime, no obvious transgression, no moment that you can use to justify the enormity of what you feel to yourself and others”.
Sooo insanely poignant how you explore this moral grey-area
This is super relatable!!! I love your writing too, this is the first of your writing i’ve read! and you’re really pretty. warning, i’m about to leave a long ass comment:
Two days ago, my ex boyfriend died from alcohol poisoning, an inevitable tragedy that I knew was coming.
He pursued me when I was newly 18, and he was 23/24(?) Im 23 now. I was more in love with him than anyone else i’ve ever loved, but I know now it’s because at 18, all of his favorite music, movies, art, ect was cool and new to me, and it made him seem so cool. I looked up to him, and idolized him. I went crazy watching him lead his shitty punk band at tiny house shows. He told me the things I loved were “cringe” and laughed at me. I was still young, now more knowledgeable than him on art, music, etc ect. The way he looked down at me for my immaturity, but also liked me for it…. it really fucked with my psyche. He didn’t view our relationship as deep and important the way I did. He didn’t give me the love and respect he would give a real adult that he dated, because I was young. For years I thought he treated me the way he did because I wasn’t cool enough or artsy enough or pretty enough, when that wasn’t it at all. Him and I stayed friends. A few months we reconnected. He sent me his poetry, and it was awful. It made me cringe. The idolization I had for him crumbled. My poetry was so much better than his. He was nothing special, I was just literally young and dumb.
We talked for a few months, I was going through a lot and he supported me emotionally. Then, he confessed his love and tried to get back with me. I told him no and went off on him with years of pent up rage. He pretended to support me, under the guise of friendship, only to eventually show me that he wanted something in return for his friendship. It made me sick.
I am grieving so hard, and wondering why his death is killing me, but this sums it up.
It’s confusing to me whether I should grieve and remember him as a beautiful, unique, artistic, interesting person, or to see him as someone that preyed on me, who looked my sincerity and love in the face, and looked back with ridicule, judgement, and fake tenderness and closeness. I don’t know if I want to weep at his casket or spit in it.
if you read this thanks, i’m grieving and this article really helped me process my grief and was relatable when i feel super alone.
" without laws broken or lines crossed, women’s pain is madness." articulated perfectly. an idea so ingrained in girls from such a young age. a young women's heartbreak is considered a novelty in its nature.
dear rayne i hope you write a book or publish a collection of essays or something because this is extremely relevant and important and original and heartbreaking and brilliant
" in a twisted way, men are the ones infantilized in this process: we see them as incapable of restraint, victim to the woman acting upon them, helpless to draw a boundary or, even better, to critically analyze their desires." so true . Amazing essay
Read this to the department head of my college and it is now part of the senior seminar literature. We read a lot of feminist theory but nothing has ever spoken to me the way you have with this
“ i chose, willingly and often enthusiastically, to enter those relationships and to stay in them. sometimes, in the small, secret part of myself where i tuck away my worst impulses, i wished they had gone just a little further, wronged me just a little bit more clearly, because maybe then i wouldn’t feel quite so crazy about hurting so much. without laws broken or lines crossed, women’s pain is madness.” fuck dude I feel like you lovingly opened my skull and examined my brain.. stellar 💕
your writing is so controlled and powerful.. i cried reading this because it perfectly encapsulates my experience and the experience of all women to some degree. “the worst kinds of pain are rarely mutual”.. wow. ya.
Potent talent on display here. The mixture of striking emotional insight and rational social calculus is very effective. Writing like this can cast your perspective into men's eyes and instill more care and reflection in them. It's bright enough to shine across the pain gap.
This was so cathartic for me to read. I came to terms with my nonbinary identity about a year ago but I've only recently been able to wrestle with my experience of girlhood and how much trauma and pain was built into that experience and how that shapes me as an adult. I have bits of this essay in my notes app to help me practice articulating that.
In particular, the section that says "i was certain that i was mature enough to handle it, or at least certain that i wanted to be and determined to learn through experience (there is a sickeningly pervasive idea in our culture, by the way, that a young woman can only become interesting and complex by experiencing untold quantities of pain — and so we seek this suffering in an attempt to become artistic, but only end up learning that we were operating from a flawed premise in the first place. pain is nothing but pain)” reminded me of reading through 14-year-old me's diary. I had a bit of a Lolita complex, I think. I convinced myself I was in control when adult men took advantage of me, and it's eerie looking back at that girl's thoughts knowing what I know now, at 20 years old, with all the pain and none of the artistic complexities I thought it earned me.
“the problem with dating men is that there is often no smoking gun — no terrible crime, no obvious transgression, no moment that you can use to justify the enormity of what you feel to yourself and others”.
Sooo insanely poignant how you explore this moral grey-area
This is super relatable!!! I love your writing too, this is the first of your writing i’ve read! and you’re really pretty. warning, i’m about to leave a long ass comment:
Two days ago, my ex boyfriend died from alcohol poisoning, an inevitable tragedy that I knew was coming.
He pursued me when I was newly 18, and he was 23/24(?) Im 23 now. I was more in love with him than anyone else i’ve ever loved, but I know now it’s because at 18, all of his favorite music, movies, art, ect was cool and new to me, and it made him seem so cool. I looked up to him, and idolized him. I went crazy watching him lead his shitty punk band at tiny house shows. He told me the things I loved were “cringe” and laughed at me. I was still young, now more knowledgeable than him on art, music, etc ect. The way he looked down at me for my immaturity, but also liked me for it…. it really fucked with my psyche. He didn’t view our relationship as deep and important the way I did. He didn’t give me the love and respect he would give a real adult that he dated, because I was young. For years I thought he treated me the way he did because I wasn’t cool enough or artsy enough or pretty enough, when that wasn’t it at all. Him and I stayed friends. A few months we reconnected. He sent me his poetry, and it was awful. It made me cringe. The idolization I had for him crumbled. My poetry was so much better than his. He was nothing special, I was just literally young and dumb.
We talked for a few months, I was going through a lot and he supported me emotionally. Then, he confessed his love and tried to get back with me. I told him no and went off on him with years of pent up rage. He pretended to support me, under the guise of friendship, only to eventually show me that he wanted something in return for his friendship. It made me sick.
I am grieving so hard, and wondering why his death is killing me, but this sums it up.
It’s confusing to me whether I should grieve and remember him as a beautiful, unique, artistic, interesting person, or to see him as someone that preyed on me, who looked my sincerity and love in the face, and looked back with ridicule, judgement, and fake tenderness and closeness. I don’t know if I want to weep at his casket or spit in it.
if you read this thanks, i’m grieving and this article really helped me process my grief and was relatable when i feel super alone.
" without laws broken or lines crossed, women’s pain is madness." articulated perfectly. an idea so ingrained in girls from such a young age. a young women's heartbreak is considered a novelty in its nature.
"the worst kinds of pain are rarely mutual. " you are a true genius. I really enjoy your writting.
dear rayne i hope you write a book or publish a collection of essays or something because this is extremely relevant and important and original and heartbreaking and brilliant
glad i saw this right before i’m turning 18!!
" in a twisted way, men are the ones infantilized in this process: we see them as incapable of restraint, victim to the woman acting upon them, helpless to draw a boundary or, even better, to critically analyze their desires." so true . Amazing essay
Read this to the department head of my college and it is now part of the senior seminar literature. We read a lot of feminist theory but nothing has ever spoken to me the way you have with this
I appreciate your longer-form content. You're a wonderful writer.
“ i chose, willingly and often enthusiastically, to enter those relationships and to stay in them. sometimes, in the small, secret part of myself where i tuck away my worst impulses, i wished they had gone just a little further, wronged me just a little bit more clearly, because maybe then i wouldn’t feel quite so crazy about hurting so much. without laws broken or lines crossed, women’s pain is madness.” fuck dude I feel like you lovingly opened my skull and examined my brain.. stellar 💕
thank you for this! You've described, what I, as a now 30 year old woman, have been trying to describe for over a decade now.
your writing is so controlled and powerful.. i cried reading this because it perfectly encapsulates my experience and the experience of all women to some degree. “the worst kinds of pain are rarely mutual”.. wow. ya.
this inspired me to write my own stuff
Potent talent on display here. The mixture of striking emotional insight and rational social calculus is very effective. Writing like this can cast your perspective into men's eyes and instill more care and reflection in them. It's bright enough to shine across the pain gap.
This was so cathartic for me to read. I came to terms with my nonbinary identity about a year ago but I've only recently been able to wrestle with my experience of girlhood and how much trauma and pain was built into that experience and how that shapes me as an adult. I have bits of this essay in my notes app to help me practice articulating that.
In particular, the section that says "i was certain that i was mature enough to handle it, or at least certain that i wanted to be and determined to learn through experience (there is a sickeningly pervasive idea in our culture, by the way, that a young woman can only become interesting and complex by experiencing untold quantities of pain — and so we seek this suffering in an attempt to become artistic, but only end up learning that we were operating from a flawed premise in the first place. pain is nothing but pain)” reminded me of reading through 14-year-old me's diary. I had a bit of a Lolita complex, I think. I convinced myself I was in control when adult men took advantage of me, and it's eerie looking back at that girl's thoughts knowing what I know now, at 20 years old, with all the pain and none of the artistic complexities I thought it earned me.
turned 18 less than a week ago, I'll gladly think about this article forever