So, I have this really crappy ex who is super manipulative and definitely guilty of sexual harassment (like, really disgusting harassment that maybe I should have brought to the cops, since we've BEEN broken up, and so there was clearly no miscommunication about how he can and cannot speak to me (which, believe me, he cannot, either way; I broke up with him because of his disgusting man crap)), and I've been telling him to back off, once in a blue moon when he pops back in to be weird, until the other night, when I told him to delete my number and stop talking to me.

I feel relieved.

I feel like I should have done so much more, though. Reported the harassment. Punched him in the face.

See, I was at a gas station, and some older man took the time out of his busy schedule of being a loser to nickname me "white pussay" and make me wildly uncomfortable while I was stuck pumping gas. And in that moment, I wondered why the other man, pumping his gas right near me, didn't stop him (because my safety was in danger, and I couldn't). I wondered why disgusting people were allowed to make women feel unsafe as they go about their everyday errands...but then it's like, yeah, I've been firmly discouraging my ex about this stuff, but maybe the message would stick a bit better if someone from the college called him up and had a meeting with him about inappropriate comments.

Part of me still has this internalized pity for successful people whose lives are "ruined by sexual harassment/rape charges," but that's just not okay.

That day at the gas station was the first time I've ever not bitten right back at someone, because I knew he would get out of his car and hurt me, if I did. It was the first time I felt unsafe and silenced.

So now I'm totally aware of the stakes, when someone I know makes me feel uncomfortable.

Comment! (1) | Recommend!

Be it extremely emotional, controversial, messed up, or whatever, this entry has been password protected.

If you know it, enter it; or, ask me for it.

Comment! (0) | Recommend!

I have officially gone to the trouble of sneaking someone into my house just so that I could cuddle with him and watch a scary movie for a few hours.

This is all sorts of sad. I'm disappointing my teenage self.

Comment! (1) | Recommend!

Some of my relatives came down and visited for a day, and my dad was hanging out with them, too.

I get in the car and immediately they ask about seeing my award, and tell me that my dad's been bragging about me.

I don't even know what to say. I'm one of those kids who really didn't get praise, from my dad, and we've always had a tumultuous (man there's a surplus or the letter u in that word) relationship--but in a way very different from the rocky grounds on which my mother and I stand. His relationship with me has always been more straightforward and easy to fix, but, sometimes, that doesn't necessarily mean it gets fixed.

So hearing this sort of stuff never fails to surprise me in that quiet, stunned sort of way that doesn't pass by, all that often.

I had a nice day, generally-speaking. It's been a nice month, with lots of comfort and kindness. I think just constantly, to the point where I'm up way too late, but it's the type of thoughts that feel quiet and gentle.

Also, I went to sushi, last night, with three friends, and it got to the point where I was outright flirting (inadvertently, wow) with one of them. Can't figure out what to make of that, but, at the same time, I haven't thought about it much. It's nice, and sometimes flirting between friends really doesn't mean anything. I'm sure she's on the same level, there.


Basically...May is good. May is great. Relaxed. Yay.

Comment! (0) | Recommend!