This past weekend I was at a college party, and a boy I had never met slapped my butt and kept on walking.

No, I am not upset. No, I would never consider this minute incident “assault,” although technically it is, by definition. No, it has not kept me up the past few nights. It was kind of funny, if I’m being honest. One of my friends that was facing the stranger when he did slap ass, said he kind of raised his eyebrows and made a face when he did it—which is both flattering and creepy. But it did get me thinking: why did this guy think it was OK to just slap a stranger’s ass? What if I was the type that would have freaked out about it?

At first, I felt insecure. I considered it my fault. Maybe what I was wearing was a provocative outfit. (I wasn’t. I wore a high neck shirt with jeans and Doc Martens—which are awesome boots, but not exactly known for being sexy. "Family Guy’s" Peter Griffin calls them “lesbian boots.”) Or maybe I was standing in a posture that invited that kind of behavior (which would be out of character for me).

Then, for a moment, I felt proud. I thought: "Hell yeah, my ass is worth a slap from a stranger!" (It should be mentioned that I think I have a very average caboose). I suspect this is the way most females would respond—but then again, many of the females I know are shallow and desperate for attention. College, right?

And then finally I thought, “Wait, what the hell?” Some guy just slapped my ass—in public—and carried on with his day. To him, it was like high-fiving a friend and carrying on. But to me—well it was my ass. How many people do you want slapping your ass?

Can we talk about the fact that drunk men fight over dumber reasons than that? And how many times have you heard (probably drunk) men starting a fight because, “Did you just touch me, man?!” But if I would have responded in a hostile manner, or even just one of slight displeasure, I would be called a stupid b*tch and probably looked down upon for speaking up about my desire to not be groped or slapped or catcalled by random dudes along the way.

There is something called male sexual entitlement that I have always suspected, but just recently found out is an actual thing. I remember in junior high and high school thinking it was major BS that the girls could only have co-ed plans if the boys invited them. It was always the boys inviting the girls. And if the boys invited girls from other schools, well that was just their pickings for the night and we had to deal with it. I remember the frustration and thinking it was unfair that the boys would just make plans and girls would just show up for them. The boys were entitled to female company.

Then as I got older and learned more about relationships, genders, and sexuality, I started to see more male sexual entitlement. I had mostly guy friends and I would often hear them complain about “being nice to a girl” and then not getting to go home with her afterwards. Or, now in college, boys complain about buying drinks for girls and not getting to go home with them. Sex and sexual contact is a two-way decision and interaction—men can’t take—both partners decide it.

Ever notice how guys “get pussy” or “get some,” while girls “give it up” or “put out”? Males are getting. Females are giving.

Upon final reflection, I began to think like the male. To him, I was an object—just another ass in a sea of co-eds—there for his entertainment. Some of these boys think that girls are there for them. But we aren’t. Females and males are coexisting on the same planet, and—at least in the States—we have the same rights. Which means my ass is not there for you, it’s just there for me (because it’s attached to me). It also means that just because I show up to a party, does not mean I want to have sex with you.

When I first considered writing about this, I asked one of my male friends what he thought. “Please don’t,” was his response.

I started thinking about what else I could write about, but I kept coming back because there is so much I wanted to say about the small incident. However, I felt like if I did I would be perceived as a bitch, or insensitive, or asexual, or something— something definitely negative. But then I realized that that’s the issue here. There’s a stigma in our culture that makes women who report rapes and sexual assaults somehow kind of the bad guy. She’s different. She’s a tattle-tell. Nothing good. Why shouldn’t I feel comfortable enough to complain about strangers touching me? Men shouldn’t feel comfortable grabbing ass willy-nilly. My friend asking that I not write the article made me feel like I was doing something wrong; like somehow my telling this story would make me a bad guy. But I’m not the bad guy. I’m just a girl with an (apparently) cute butt and a big mouth.