July 05, 2011

Poor You

Idiot moonbat liberal stages a violent rape to cure herself of post-traumatic stress - an anxiety disorder she developed after just meeting an actual victim of violent rape.

McClelland, 31, sought professional help but said she ultimately cured herself by staging her own rape, which she writes about in a haunting piece for the online magazine Good. The title: "How Violent Sex Helped Ease My PTSD."

Nothing says "solidarity" as becoming a voluntary co-victim...

Its a victim thing. You wouldn't understand. So, to understand, you must become a victim. Of sorts. Except that you volunteered to be raped, which makes it consensual and, therefore, not really rape. Except that your 'rapist' really loved you. Except that you could stop it anytime. Except you knew your loved ones and family wouldn't also be traumatized. Except that you knew you weren't going to be murdered at the end of it.

But really, what's sicker - her deviant desire to be violently raped as a "cure," or her ex-boyfriend who was much too happy to accommodate her (this is from her magazine piece):

We'd done this sort of thing before. But at dinner I'd told him, voice shaking, about my PTSD. This time, the fight would be rougher and the stakes higher. And so he paused. "Okay," he said. "I love you, okay?" I said, I know, okay. And with that he was on me, forcing my arms to my sides, then pinning them over my head, sliding a hand up under my shirt when I couldn't stop him. The control I'd lost made my torso scream with anxiety; I cried out desperately as I kicked myself free. But it didn't matter how many times I managed to knock him over to the other side of the bed. He's got 60 pounds on me, plus the luxuries of patience and fearlessness. When I got out from under him and started to scramble away, he simply caught me by a leg or an upper arm or my hair and dragged me back. By the time he pinned me by my neck with one forearm so I was forced to use both hands to free up space between his elbow and my windpipe, I'd largely exhausted myself. [...]

But at the moment, Isaac pulled my hair away from my wet face, repeating over and over and over something that he probably believed but that I had to relearn. "You are so strong," he said. "You are so strong. You are so strong."

Surviving rape is being strong. Staging violent rape is sick. Equating your orchestrated experience with that of true victims, it's just disgusting.

By DMartyr at 11:50 AM | Comments |