The Damage Done by Tiny Little Consent Violations

I’ve always thought that men and women can be friends. I’ve said this again and again, with conviction.

I forgot to add a caveat.

Men and women can be friends if they respect each other’s boundaries.

I thought that went without saying. But, apparently, it does not.

I have a friend I’ll call Mark. Mark is someone I used to sleep with back in my single days. He and I had one of those affairs that burns hot and fast, but then the ashes smolder into a lasting friendship.

Recently, Mark visited from his new home halfway across the country and we got together for dinner. Actually, he met Hubby and our youngest daugher earlier in the day at an outdoor concert and I stayed on in the city he stayed in to have dinner with him.

We stopped at his hotel room so I could use his wifi to send out a proposal to a freelance client and change for dinner. I changed in the bathroom and then grabbed my makeup bag to touch up my eyeliner before dinner.

While I stood facing the mirror Mark walked in the bathroom and wrapped his arms around me from behind in a hug. That was a bit much for me in and of itself, but then he tried to lean in to kiss me.

I backed away.

“Come on, just give me one kiss.” Mark leaned in further and tightened his grip on my waist.

…

When I first met Mark I was 27, and a new mother. I was ending a marriage to someone who gambled away piles of money in my name and slept with a plethora of prostitutes. I’d lived through teenage years punctuated by sexual assault.

At the time, Mark felt safe, which is why I entered into a sexual relationship with him.

During a recent phone call I let him know about how his presence made me feel safe at that time, and how valuable that relationship was to my healing and becoming the woman I am today.

Now, here I was in this man’s hotel bathroom and he was pressuring me for a kiss that I didn’t want to give. That image of safety I’d always enjoyed was shattered.

…

The next day I called Mark on his bad behavior via text. I told him that his behavior made me uncomfortable and was not acceptable. He apologized and said it wouldn’t happen again.

I haven’t seen Mark in two years.

Mark’s apology was a small bandage on a deep wound. The incident in the hotel room didn’t just make me uncomfortable; it made me reevaluate our entire relationship. That moment of disrespect had undone years of trust and camaraderie. While his words were apologetic, the damage lingered.

I reflected on our friendship, pondering the dynamics that had shifted so dramatically. The realization hit me hard: boundaries, once crossed, cannot be mended with mere apologies. They require action, understanding, and sometimes, distance. My safety — emotional and physical — was paramount, and allowing someone in my life who disregarded that, even once, was a risk I could no longer afford.

The aftermath of our conversation was a slow drift apart. Our interactions became sparse, limited to brief updates or the occasional greeting on social media. The vibrant connection we once shared, filled with inside jokes and deep conversations, had faded into a polite acquaintance. It was a loss, certainly, but one that I accepted as necessary for my well-being.

Moreover, this experience propelled me into a deeper exploration of what I require in a friendship/ I became more vocal about my comfort levels, more assertive in stating my needs, and more discerning in the company I kept. I realized that true friendships, ones that last and enrich your life, are built on a foundation of respect for each other’s boundaries and autonomy.

In a way, the unpleasant encounter with Mark served as a catalyst for personal growth. It reminded me that while people can change or reveal sides of themselves we hadn’t seen, I too can change — becoming stronger, more assertive, and more in tune with my own values. The loss of our friendship was a painful chapter, but it was also a valuable lesson in self-respect and the non-negotiable nature of personal boundaries.

Molly Frances’s writing explores what it means to be human: relationships, families, sexuality, mental health, and growth. When she isn’t writing or working with clients, she’s either on a beach, or reading (or both). She lives with her husband, a pile of children, a rescue pup, and too many books. You can also find her on www.sexwithmolly.com, and Dipsea.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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From The Good Men Project on Medium

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