Dinner was great. The ride back to his house for a nightcap was riddled with awkward silences, coy laughs and a Trey Songz album. His apartment was nice, he was kind, he was clean and so...she felt safe.
But when he whispered in her ear while she sat on the couch, she tensed up. When he got bolder after a swig of alcohol and put his arm around her, she tried to move away. And when he told her that he wanted to "beat that p*ssy up," she told him to take her home.
But her outfit said something else to him. Her willingness to come to his house was a clear indication. Her "playing hard to get" attitude was an invitation. And the music they listened to on the way over told him that yes, she really did want it. Hard. Aggressively. Violently. She wanted him to beat her p*ssy up.
In fact, she wanted him to "beat the pussy up nigga baseball bat."
She wanted him to "beat that pussy up jab, jab, right hook."
She wanted him to "smack that all on the floor, smack that until she got sore."
And yes, she would love for him to "beat the pussy up like Emmett Till."
In the end, he did beat it up. And then he got in trouble. Because that's what happens when you literally mutilate, abuse and attack a woman's genitals.
My friend's "no's" were drowned out by his overwhelming desire to completely pummel her vagina, because in some sick world, we've made it okay for women to be treated like that by championing them as sex deviants in our most respected art form...music.
And while her situation is an extreme case, something must be said for the way we speak about the act of sex with a woman. In many cases, it's a simile for how we want to be handled during intercourse, because, let's face it, some like it rough. But in her case, which wasn't consensual, it was the delusions of grandeur that hip-hop and R&B gives men. That societally accepted idea that allows them to think of our vaginas as something to be destroyed.
I know the arguments. Hip-hop isn't literal. It's art. It's not supposed to be taken seriously. And...most women do, in fact, like it rough.
But when we get to the point where we are objectifying women in every song on the radio by her anatomy, then mutilating it with metaphors and similes that are both gross and disrespectful, we need to start evaluating the role that these punchlines play in the epidemic of violence against women.
When rappers are comparing a vestibule for life to a teenage boy who was beaten to death, shot in the head and thrown in the river because of his blackness, it's time to pause.
In the metaphorical sense it doesn't sit well, so how do you think this translates literally? Grossly and painfully.
Furthermore, does the fact that Emmett Till was beaten because of a master status he couldn't control, and Lil Wayne's desire to beat a woman's vagina, which is her defining jewel, correlate? Are we "beating up" vaginas because we hate women?
Why is it that we give a vagina the name "pussy," a term that is used to castrate a man and strip him of power, and then we allow music and society to further demean its majesty by thrashing it to pieces?
Is there no connection to be made here?
My attack isn't against my beloved hip-hop, it's against the language that we use to highlight our women. This rant isn't about Lil Wayne, it's about how Lil Wayne gives power to men like my friend's assailant. I'm not even going to contend that all women want sweet, slow, sensual sex. But we also don't want you to beat it up until we cry.
In the end, I may be thinking too much about it. In the end, music is just music and it doesn't affect how we think and what we do. In the end, maybe I've turned a few bars about "beating the p*ssy" up into my own Feminist-Shero cause.
And I'll be crazy for connecting the dots.
If the prevalence of violence against women and the objectification of women by their beat up genitals doesn't help you make the connection, then maybe this will: what if I talked all day about beating your genitals to a mushy pulp.
Christina Coleman is the News and Politics Editor at GlobalGrind. Prior to this she was a science writer. That explains her NASA obsession. She crushes on Anthony Bourdain. Nothing explains that.
Follow her on Twitter @ChrissyCole