I've always been a large-chested woman, but it's only been a few years since I've been comfortable showing cleavage. Oddly enough, the only time someone has tried to grope me was another women in supposed jest. I wasn't happy about it, but it was fast and surprising and I didn't feel comfortable saying something after the fact. But that isn't the story I want to tell. Instead, I'm telling a happier story. I was working one summer up in the mountains, at a place where all the employees lived onsite, and Sunday was our day off. We'd decided to use one of those off days to throw a themed redneck day party, including lots of beer and truck beds turned into makeshift swimming pools. By the time I joined, late, most people were pretty drunk. I came out in a swimsuit, which due to my cup size, showed a lot. One of the guys, a friend, said hey and reached out for a hug. Thinking he was reaching to grab me, I flinched back and covered my chest with a hand. He immediately backed up and reassured me that he would never try and touch me without permission. He was slurring his sentences as he talked, and I'm not sure he even remembers the conversation, but from that point on I knew I could trust him, that he was safe. If he still understood consent while that drunk, he was safe. It was so freeing to know that he respected my bodily autonomy, that if I ever told him to back off, he would.
On paper, consent isn't hard. Consent is an enthusiastic yes. But there are so many messages out there praising persistence in the face of rebuttals, of women just saying no because they're playing hard to get. Guys (and girls), if you're reading this, know that the safest I've felt was with people who I knew, absolutely knew, would back off if I ever said no. Don't buy in to the stories. Let yourself be that safe space, the person other people can trust. Ask for permission, and make sure you get it, every time.