Inside The Mind Of A Groper: Origin Story

This story begins with a piece of literature I heard read out loud during a tantra event. To my understanding, it was about a female character experiencing an extremely monotonous life. One day as she walked down the street, she was grabbed abruptly by a male stranger. This stranger was actually a construction worker she had seen before within a group of other construction workers. She would barely pay attention to them as they would whistle and gawk at her often. Now, she found herself at the mercy of one of these men. As he kissed and fondled her, she was shocked to notice the amount of pleasure and ecstasy that rushed through her body. In amazement, she realized that it was the first time ever she had felt fearless and present. It was as if her dissatisfaction and lack of fulfillment instantly vanished. She begged for this moment to never end.

The story disturbed me. How could someone write something that seemed to condone this kind of behavior? To appear to show non-consensual activity as acceptable? I was triggered to say the least. I recall approaching the reader after the event and letting them know about it. They simply smiled and nodded kindly as they listened to me. Years later I would receive a copy of this writing, and saw that its details did not point to what I had imagined. Why had I interpreted the tale in this way? I suspect it was because there was a shadow in me that needed to escape.

Much time passed after hearing that story and I had put it out of my mind. At some point though, and during the span of at least a decade, I developed the secret life of a groper. Though what drove me can be argued extensively; I experienced it as a lust to touch female strangers in public without needing their consent. The first behavior I started with was getting near women without any regard to their personal space. This mostly occurred on public transportation where I wasn’t touching them yet but getting extremely close. After some time, I allowed parts of my body (not genitals) to rest, lean, or press against them. One common activity was to allow my thigh to touch theirs while seated. Most women would quickly remove their leg from mine but on occasion some wouldn’t as quickly. Later, and for the majority of my time groping, my preferred method was brushing my hand or arm against their buttocks. 

At first, my groping was done covertly as I tried to make assaults look like accidents. I remember the very first time though that I didn’t bother making it look like a mistake. It was at a pharmacy where a woman stood in an empty aisle looking at products. I walked directly towards her and grazed her butt with my arm. The aisle was empty and wide enough that there was no reason for me to have been so close to her; let alone touch her. I was shocked by what I did and she was too. 

The thrill I got from groping was indescribable. The hit of dopamine that I received from it could never be replicated another way. I became an addict and groping was my drug. In my mind, I had crossed a boundary that most men could only dream of but could never do. I felt invincible and thought that I was defying the laws of the universe. It was as if the part of me that cared about social conventions had completely shattered and I was free. 

I’d like to say that I stopped because of a moral conscience but the truth is I only did it because I am afraid to get caught. I’ve been two years without offending but the desire is still there. It lurks in my psyche whenever I’m in public spaces. Whether or not I ever grope again, I know that I am an addict and I have to continuously be vigilant. I am a good looking, charismatic man that has had more success with women than I could ever imagine. Still, groping is my preference, and it may always be that way.