Self-consent. in The Napkin.

Gosh, so many anecdotes are coming to me.

Picture it, St. Paul, Minnesota, 2002, late summer.

I was in my Grandma’s basement about to kiss a girl I liked. (Gosh, when I say that out loud…) Prior, I was always nervous about the first kiss. Like, how do you initiate that? So I made the executive decision to JUST ASK.

She was a yes.

Mind you, this was before being well-versed in the nuances of consent. Before knowing about consent checks or post-care or any of that. Just a young boy who liked a girl. (Being older now, yes, I’d consider being 18/19 to be YOUNG.)

It was an awkward moment to figure out how we were going to start kissing. And well, awkward teenage make-out session ensues.

I asked her if I could touch her breasts. (Gee, little me did another consent check!)

She was a yes.

Here’s the thing: I hesitated. I was unsure. She had said yes, and would have been okay with me feeling her up. Maybe I wanted to keep it more innocent, but the reason doesn’t matter. I was a “maybe”. And in that heat of teenage snogging, I decided not to.

EDIT: I’m remembering her phrasing. It was something to the effect of “You can if you want.” Now, perhaps that was a Yes. But perhaps, just perhaps, I FELT it was a Maybe. And because she was a Maybe, I didn’t.

Of course, my point still stands. If I WANT. There’s that part of me that wanted to, but I was still a Maybe.

Looking back, I feel I respected my OWN boundaries. I was a Yes, but then I turned into a Maybe. It’s possible I could have felt it her up and everything would have been fine. But I’m using this anecdote as an example. As much as we should respect our partners boundaries and feelings, we should also respect our OWN boundaries and feelings.

Remember: If you are a Maybe, you are a No.

Last updated January 04, 2021