And then the next day, as I’m unwresting myself from a tangle of sheets and stumbling into the bathroom, giving myself a next day, post-coital once over in the mirror – what’s this that I notice? Fucking scratch marks! As I’m standing there in the┬ápanties that last night were strewn on some boy’s bedroom floor, no make up, no pretense of pretty at all, and there it is: my naked body, covered in scratch marks from someone else’s hands.

I find this to be mildly upsetting, mostly because I know what scratch marks mean. Scratch marks are like hickies are choke burns: it’s territory marking. As a feminist, I eschew the idea that a woman is a man’s property that can be marked like a dog pissing on his turf. I’m not an object to be owned, and these scratch marks feel like a temporary carving into a school yard bench: “Tommy was here.” Because I get it: I was his for a few moments, and now, hours later, here I am, peering at a physical reminder of the fucking that happened last night. That’s fine, but in the world of casual sex, and when fucking under the pretense of “this might be a one time thing, and also it’s not serious in any way” I rue the idea that my body has the marks of another man on it. This means that if I want to go out and fuck someone else this week, these fucking scratch marks will still be burned on my body for every other man to see. And they’re not very subtle either. Definitely some very obvious “I got scratched while getting fucked from behind” kinda scratch marks. These are obvious sex wounds. All over my chest. Which also means that I’m going to have to cover up these scratch marks when I go to work today, because I certainly can’t show up with my professional face on and a chest full of sex wounds. Ugh. Great. At least they’re easy to conceal.

I have a date tomorrow night, which means that I won’t be able to go tits out and flirtatious. It also means that if I try to bone my date, I’m going to have to do the old whore admission, “Oh, yeah, that’s from some other dude I banged this week.” Unfortunately our society isn’t accepting enough to be okay with the idea of a woman fucking two different dudes in one week, so we’ll see how it goes over with the my date. Hopefully my date is an open minded feminist who doesn’t find being #2 this week to be degrading. As for the guy that scratched me, he’s getting points off this week for pulling a boyfriend move during casual sex. Know your role.