The Party

I'm at a Frat party with my girlfriend, Louise. Midterms are finally over and we needed to find a way to destress.

At this point, I'm glad I came. The food tastes good, the music is great, and Louise? 

Well Louise looks absolutely stunning. The mere sight of her eyes flush my cheeks with rosey hue.

Everything just seems to be going perfectly...until one of the frat boys comes up to us and asks

"Are you two dating?"

The question is quite jarring, but I still respond truthfully

"Yes, we are a couple"

"I'll pay you ten bucks to make out in front of me"

Excuse me?

"The most I'll do is 20 but I better see some 'under the shirt' action".

Does this man really not understand that we're not here for his amusement

That we aren't dolls that exist to be played with

To be manhandled

To be thrown into each other and forced to do as he pleases.

Does this man really not understand that my girlfriend and I are not pornstars

Just because I like girls doesn't mean that I'm interested in parading that around for his affection.

Does this man really not understand that Louise's hand grasped in mine is not an open invitation for his impressions.

But rather my attempt to just enjoy a damn party.

Must this man infringe my relationship with his perverted desires.

Must this man strangle me with his mysoginistic vernacular, put me in a chokehold until I do what he says.

Until I listen to his request to see me undressed

And give him access to my innermost personal thoughts and relations?

I do not owe this man anything. I do not owe this man the mere sight of me and Louise

I do not owe this man the tender touch of my lips.

I do not owe this man a five minute joy ride

I do not owe this man any of my love and any of my passion. 

This poem is about: 


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