Pushing the Limits

Let’s talk about pushy boys.

We all know one.

Boys who are used to always getting what they want. Boys who will whine and whine until they either have their way or die of old age.

I don’t have much to say about it, honestly. As much as I wish I could, I’m not offering up a cure-all to this disease. At this point, I’m just here to illuminate the cultural phenomenon and acknowledge the extent to which I have experienced it.

Sometimes it’s obvious when you’re sleeping with a pushy boy. He’s aggressive on the dance floor, throwing mediocre pickup lines at you, and then diving straight in for that hand on your waist. In the bedroom, he’ll direct you where to put your body—first on your back, then commanding that you ride him, then maybe less-than-gracefully flipping you over into doggie if he can last that long. From the familiar sequence of positions, you can tell he’s watched a lot of porn. One glance is probably all it takes for him to find the scene he needs to bust a nut. When he’s done, you’re both done. Does he assume that his dick was powerful enough to make you cum, or does he just not care? Regardless, he flops into bed and pulls you down beside him. And, despite anxieties about an imminent UTI if you don’t get that post-sex health-pee out of the way, you’ll probably just lie down with him. This scenario makes sense. I’m sure it’s relatable to more than just some of us.

Now, let’s take another scenario where I’m currently pegging a bro. Yes, your run-of-the-mill bro, the kind that likes sports, and beer, and flip-flops. The kind that will insist on making me listen to the EDM remix of that “Damn, Daniel” meme, and I’m fucking him in the ass with a strap-on. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, here’s the real interesting part—he’s still a pushy boy. I am engaging in a sexual power play with this man, tying him up and dominating him… but outside of the bedroom, he reverts back to a state of entitlement that I just can’t wrap my head around. He constantly pesters me about coming to his room and fucking him, even when I tell him that I’m busy with schoolwork and the last thing I want to think about is his asshole. I tried to address it calmly and told him, “I want you to respect my time,” and I immediately received the response, “and I want you to disrespect my hole.” Even in a sexual relationship based off of our power dynamic, his entitlement prevails.

The pushiness that defines a pushy boy comes from a place of self-importance that, I would argue, hinders his ability to take others’ needs and opinions into consideration. Now, the trouble is that if you point out his pushiness, he's going to defend himself since he thinks he's always right. Such is the nature of being self-important. Are pushy boys destined to remain pushy boys until the day they die? (“Babe, I know you have homework to do, but I’m, like, super stressed on my deathbed and I could really use some head right now.”)

As much as I make fun of them, a small part of me envies pushy boys. I want to prioritize myself and my feelings the way that a pushy boy does. I’m sure there’s a sweet spot somewhere, but as someone that falls on the side more prone to being accommodating in relationships, the thought of being self-important and feeling entitled to attention seems oddly relaxing.

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