Glamour Writer Admits She Can’t Stop Having Sex With Trump Supporters

Several days ago, some chick named Korey Lane (picture above from her Twitter profile) wrote a piece for Glamour Magazine entitled, “Help, I Can’t Stop Hooking Up With Trump Voters.”

If, by looking at the title of her piece, you’re assuming that Korey Lane is a promiscuous skank, you’re pretty much right on the money, given that the first sentence reads, “When someone asks about my worst hookup, I have plenty of options to choose from…”

Aim high, Korey.

Listen – I get it – today’s feminists think that sleeping with a zillion guys is empowering and liberating and the very essence of equality of the sexes.  Which is just one more reason I have no respect for today’s feminists.

Anyway, Korey’s column describes her first round of sexcapades with a Trump supporter as “hot, and uncomplicated in the sense that neither of us expected – or even really wanted – any strings attached. And since I was confident in my political convictions, all that witty banter about tax codes, emails, and border walls was the foreplay I never knew I needed.”

Shortly after that “relationship” (and I use that word in the same way Korey uses her body – loosely), she ended up in bed with another Trump supporter, and then another, and now?

“As much as I don’t like the idea of sleeping with people whose values are clearly the opposite of my own, I can’t seem to stop, especially since the election. I’m an extremely competitive person and knowing that the guy I’m with is on the “winning” team (even though I’m still correct) just forces that competitiveness into overdrive. Even when my annoyance with Trump and his supporters turns into depression, anxiety, and frustration, I still get an odd sense of vindication after sleeping with one of them.”

Ultimately, Korey has “accepted her flings for what they are – opportunities for excellent hate-sex.”

Sounds just like the kind of girl you’d want to bring home to meet your parents, amirite, fellas?

Korey’s on Twitter, brushing off criticism about this column with tweets like these:

If I have the same critics and haters as @laurenduca and @lenadunham I feel like I must be doing something right, ya know?

— Korey Raye Lane (@KoreyRaye) September 13, 2017

Not that I don’t LOVE being attacked by Trumpsters for, ya know, being a woman w/opinions BUT idk maybe we should focus on helping Florida? — Korey Raye Lane (@KoreyRaye) September 10, 2017

BREAKING NEWS: feminist writer who dares to write about sex AND politics has somehow become…breaking news?

— Korey Raye Lane (@KoreyRaye) September 12, 2017

I get it, but also: how is this news? Hint: it isn’t. Go on with your lives, my friends.

— Korey Raye Lane (@KoreyRaye) September 12, 2017

Apparently my Glamour article was discussed on Rush Limbaugh and idk I feel sorry for the world that people still find it newsworthy

— Korey Raye Lane (@KoreyRaye) September 13, 2017

Those last three are my favorite.  Korey writes an article she believes is worthy of being read, and then seems completely flummoxed that people are Actually Reacting to it.   She “feels sorry for the world that people still find it newsworthy” as if people who didn’t happen to read it the second it was published are somehow less entitled to have an opinion on it than people who read it when it was hot off the presses.

I was curious about Korey Lane’s other possible literary masterpieces, and found one of interest at her website called, “I Don’t Know If I Was Raped.”

She wrote that column in October of 2016.  Helpfully, right at the top of the piece she says, “*Trigger warning for sexual assault*” because today’s feminists can’t read anything without trigger warnings now.  In the piece, Korey says she used to wear a purity ring that her mom gave to her, because she wanted to wait until she was married to have sex.

One of my favorite lines from the piece is when she writes, “I know virginity is really just a social construct.”

Um – what?

Either you’ve had intercourse or you haven’t.  If you haven’t, you’re a virgin.  That’s not a judgment.  That’s not a social construct.  That’s a DEFINITION.

She went on to write, “And even after I grew up and explored my own beliefs, I still knew I wanted to wait until I was married to have sex. I had strong convictions about it, sex was a big deal to me, and it still is.”

My, how times change.  Now she’s enjoying hate-sex with a bunch of Trump supporters.

Anyway, the reason Korey didn’t know if she’d been raped or not is because she was drunk out of her mind and partying one night, and while she said “no” to her date as sex commenced, she’d also invited him home with her, invited him onto her bed, and ripped off his shirt.  And that’s not all:

“The truth is, I wanted to be with him.  I craved his body against mine.  I wanted someone to wake up next to. I wanted his fingers to explore me, and I wanted mine to explore him. I wanted it so badly. He spoke French and had an accent, he kissed my neck and whispered phrases in my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin, first with French, then English. I wanted him.

 

But when he said he didn’t have a condom, I realized how far in over my head I was. I thought I could distract him, but it was clear he only wanted one thing. I said “No” and then got on top, trying to sway his attention. But he rolled over, and ten seconds later I said “No, no,” and his answer was a kiss, starting on my lips, and then moving further down.

 

After, “No, no, come on, no,” the French response made a reappearance, and the battle waged on. He was strong, I wasn’t. I felt the pain, and, once I knew it was too late, just waited for it to be over.

 

He spooned me in his sleep, and didn’t budge when I got up to go to the bathroom and winced at the blood on the toilet paper. I crawled back in bed, his arms wrapped around me again and I tried to forget.

 

The next morning I only said “No,” once. I wasn’t a virgin anymore, so what was the point of fighting? I was tired, so tired. At least it was over faster this time.

So, see, she was super confused.  She “didn’t technically give consent,” she says, but she “didn’t really try very hard to stop him,” since there was “a part of her that wanted him,” wanted sex with him, and “relished the fact” that he wanted her.

But in the morning, she was filled with regret.  She cried when she bought a morning-after pill, and she cried when she realized she had no idea what his full name was.

And then she wondered if she’d been raped.

This is the problem with today’s hook-up culture, and with the women who participate in it, and with the feminists who insist on using the same terminology to describe Korey’s experience as they’d use to describe a woman who’s attacked at gunpoint by a stranger in a parking lot.

It. Is. Not. The. Same.

I have a huge problem calling what happened that night “rape.”  Our society has already diluted too many words that used to have significant impact into meaningless mush.  Remember when it meant something truly horrific to be called a racist?  Remember when it would sting to be called a bigot?  Remember when just the thought of referring to someone as a Nazi was almost unthinkable?  Now that lots of liberals call anyone who voted for Trump those names, the words have completely lost their significance.  It’s practically become a badge of honor to folks on the right, because they know how absolutely wrong their accusers are.  And this is what I fear is happening to the terms “rape” and “sexual assault.”  When universities quote stats about 1 in 4 women being raped on campuses, and those stats include things like “an unwanted kiss” as an example of rape, it’s a problem.  It’s a watering down of the word.  And it does a huge disservice to Actual Victims of those horrific crimes.

As I’ve written before, too many women who regret their actions the night before decide “Hey! I said no a few times while I was making out with him and ripping his clothes off  and sending every possible signal that I wanted to have sex with him so clearly I am the victim of a horrible sexual assault!” and then they proceed to ruin men’s lives over encounters similar to Korey’s.  There is ZERO accountability for their own actions – and being victims serves them well, because victimhood absolves them of the guilt they have about their own behavior.  Who cares that the guy genuinely thought you were consenting and believed your actions over your words?  He has to pay for what he did, dammit.

To Korey’s credit, she didn’t proceed to ruin that guy’s life. But since writing that piece, Korey has decided that unequivocally, she was raped by the French dude.  How do I know this? Because two follow up pieces she wrote a few months after that are titled ,”When I was Raped, Christian Health Care Failed Me” and “How My Middle School Sex Education Failed Me As A Sexual Assault Survivor.”  And it’s rather amazing to read how differently she describes her night with the Frenchman in her October 2016 piece versus her April 2017 one.

Now, I should point out that French dude should have just stopped when Korey said no, because in today’s hook-up culture, if you’re a dude and you DON’T stop the second you hear the “no” word (even if the chick doesn’t MEAN “no,”) you’re putting yourself at enormous risk of being accused of rape.  At the rate we’re going, if you’re a dude, it’s probably safest if you just wait for your partner to physically pull your penis into her vagina herself, so you can be absolutely certain that she’s giving consent.  And honestly, even that’s not a guarantee you won’t get accused of rape.  I mean, we now live in an era where there are sex contracts and consent forms and consent apps, etc.  I can’t believe guys are having sex with anyone anymore.

The way Korey’s October 2016 column ends is actually kind of heartbreaking.

“If I say I was raped, it’s real, inescapable. I don’t know if I even want to know if I was raped.

 

What I do know is that now, I’m always thirsty. No matter how many water bottles I drink, I still want more. Now, blank spaces in my day are my worst enemy—too much time to think. Now I see just how much that ring means to me, because not a day goes by that I don’t think about it. Now I try my hardest to avoid the attention of men, and to definitely not get drunk around them. Now, I still don’t know if I was raped or just made a very poor decision.

 

And I don’t think I’ll ever know the answer. But maybe one day it won’t matter anymore. Maybe, one day, all that will matter is that I’ll be with someone who loves me. Maybe, one day, I’ll forget about my purity ring. Maybe.”

After having read about her current inability to stop having sex with Trump supporters, I have so much pity for Korey.  Just a few short years ago, the gift of her body meant something to her.   The gift of intimacy with another person meant something to her.  She said sex was a “big deal” to her.  And now?  Now she’s randomly sleeping with so many people that she has “plenty of options to choose from” when someone asks her about her worst hookup.

I genuinely hope, for her sake,  that Korey is in therapy.  Lots and lots of therapy.