My mother always told me that there were two types of rapist. The first, by far the least common, was the sort who knew no woman would ever willingly want him and so went forth equipped with things like drugs and duct tape. The second was the sort that believed no woman could resist him and was often genuinely surprised when one did, sometimes refusing to take “no” for an answer.
I should probably clarify. My mother worked in a psychiatric prison in the UK and had first-hand experience of the worst that humanity has to offer. Some evil people know that they are evil or, at the very least, disgusting to wider society. But the majority of wrong-doers feel themselves—sometimes with the active encouragement of those around them cheering on their greatness—to be fully deserving of their elevated view of themselves. This can result in them thinking, with some justification, that the rules do not apply to them.
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