“Are you fucking her?”
I blinked. She continued.
“Because I wanted to fuck her first, and I’d think you would run it by me before you did anything with her.”
My fellow butch was staring me down.
The beer clutched in my right hand wasn’t sweating nearly as hard as I was.
A number of responses were racing through my head: Do you own her vagina? Is she not a person with agency over what she does with her body? She’s a woman, not a toy that you left in the sandbox.
(Important to note is that no, I was not and am not hooking up with her, but defending the false accusation of conduct was the last thing in my list of things to address.)
“Oh yeah, that’s mine over there,” another butch said to me with a grin, nodding at the femme at the other side of the room.
This was another time and place, but might as well have been within a breath of all the other times I’ve heard that kind of language.
“Great ass, right?”
Oftentimes when I am in a place occupied by butches and men, masculinity becomes a kind of currency.
Butches start talking about how they’ve “fucked more girls” than the men, “gotten more pussy,” and are “better in bed.”
Their sexual partners become objects rather than humans.
If there are women in the room, their objectification seems to be a bonding mechanism for the butches and men, laughing about who has the best ass, the best tits, who they’d fuck or not fuck.