Sunday, October 30, 2016

A Scary Halloween Haunt

Facebook has a magical way of bringing people you thought you had put behind in your life to creep right back. Such was the case with a guy from college who attempted to sexually assault me (below). 


He then sent me a message saying, "It's been a long time. How have you been?" 

It's been a long time because I didn't want anything to do with him. 

I'm not even sure why I'm writing about this tonight. It just bothers me that he had the balls to message me again after so many years. I thought that with college graduation, I could just lay him to rest in the graveyard of unpleasant experiences and memories from that time period. 

We used to be friends. What had happened was this - I was in undergrad, and he was a graduate student. I went to his apartment to pick up a sweater I left behind at a house party. His roommates were home. He asked me to follow him to his room, as my sweater was there. I didn't think twice about it because I was 19, shy, naive, and had no expectation that anything foul was going to happen. 

His room was dimly lit. He locked the door behind us. He then said he had downloaded some new Arabic music and asked me if I would like to hear it. I thought that the lighting was odd, but again, I didn't think anything of it. He told me to sit down. I sat down on the edge of his bed. He started the music. It was a slow song. At the time, I was studying Arabic. I was listening closely to the words of the song to see how much I could understand. 

He sat down next to me, really close to me. I started to feel uncomfortable, but I kept my cool thinking that nothing would happen. Stuff like that only happened to other people. He started to scoot closer to me. He got close to my neck. I'll never forget the smell of his breath in that moment.  

"I think you're really hot." 

I scooted away and said that I just wanted to finish listening to the song. He moved in again, this time grabbing my arm and pulling me towards him. I felt so stunned that I didn't know what to do. I had never been in a situation like that before. I pulled away. 

Then, he scared me. He grabbed me much more forcefully, grabbed me by the face, and said "Kiss me." He then pulled my head to his, and he forced me to have the most disgusting kiss of my life. I still remember what his lips felt like. I hated those lips. 

I pulled away and told him to stop. He grabbed me again, pushed me down on the bed, and got on top of me. He started forcing my legs apart and rubbing himself on me. "Just give this a chance. You'll like it." I started panicking. I couldn't believe this was happening. I didn't scream yet. I just kept saying "No" and tried to wiggle away. He wouldn't listen to me and he grabbed my arms even tighter and pushed my arms down harder into the mattress. He switched his hands and manipulated my arms so that with one hand he was holding both of my arms down and with the other he tried to unbutton my jeans. I raised my voice and yelled "STOP!" One of his roommates knocked and asked if we were okay. He got off of me. He said we were just having an argument. 

I took the opportunity to grab my sweater, dart for the door, unlock the door, and rush out of the apartment. I remember feeling embarrassed when I rushed out of the apartment because I felt that my hair was so messed up and it probably looked like we were messing around. The only time I ever saw him again was at parties or around campus. He would say hello. I usually said hi and then acted like I had to rush to class, answer a friend's phone call, or any other assortment of excuses. 

I didn't call the police. Looking back, I wish I had, but at the time, I didn't think anyone would believe me. I was just a 19 year old undergrad student. I also didn't think it was a big deal because I thought I was partly to blame for what happened. I didn't think that it was sexual assault. 

So here he is, 13 years later, sending me a friend request on Facebook. I didn't respond to his message. I deleted his request. I don't like to remember, and I wish I could forget. 

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

Parade of Misogyny

It's a fun new trend in the dating world. Misogyny. Donald Trump embraces it and is making a political career out of it, bragging about grabbing women by the pussy.

What is a misogynist? Merriam-Webster defines it simply - "a hatred of women." Dictionary.com defines it as "a hatred, dislike, or mistrust of women, or prejudice against women."

Unfortunately for me, I experienced what was a parade of misogyny. I had a taste of it a couple weekends ago with Trumpster. Apparently, this weekend I was to be treated to a full buffet. 

It started on Friday with a guy from Bumble I was talking to. He is a divorced father of 2. He disclosed to me that he was a father of 2 after reading my profile where I made it abundantly clear that I had reservations about playing stepmom and preferred a man with no kids but wanted to start a family. He was defensive about the issue. I gave him a pass for it. Then came the request for a "current photo." 


At first, my thought was, what a paranoid freak. I then recalled the times that I met a guy in person and he didn't match his photos at all. I obliged and snapped a quick selfie. Now, it was my turn... 


Yeah, you do look bad... 


I loved how he made excuses for looking bad. He didn't look like his photos at all. I stopped talking to him. If he was already suspicious of my profile, this was not going to be the guy for me. 

Fast forward to Saturday night. My friends and I went clubbing in a ritzy part of town. I was wearing a dress that exposed my back and a pair of smoking hot heels. 

Every woman knows that after a while, smoking hot heels means smoking hot feet. I needed to rest. While my friends danced, I sat next to them at the bar. I, being one of the only sober ones in the group, kept an eye out for any pervs nearby. 

Every club has at least one perv. Come on, you know what I mean. There's always at least one creepy guy who lurks in a dark corner, waiting to find one single woman who even temporarily gets separated from her friends so he can try to make a move. 

Unfortunately for me, there were two pervs. The pair was about 50 years old and they were watching me like a lion watches a wounded gazelle. I ignored them, hoping they'd just go away. 

They didn't go away. 

Those assholes had the gall to touch me. One of them extended his creepy finger and ran it up my back. They started to laugh at this violation of my body. I was ignited. I was livid. I immediately turned around and unleashed my street side. 

"WHAT THE F*CK! DO NOT EVER TOUCH ME AGAIN! YOU TOUCH ME AGAIN AND YOU'LL SEE WHAT THE F*CK WILL HAPPEN TO YOU! BACK THE F*CK OFF RIGHT NOW!"

They didn't back off. They moved in. One of them grabbed me around the neck and tried to kiss me. I violently pushed him. 

I raised my voice. "BACK THE F*CK OFF YOU F*CKING ASSWIPE! BACK THE F*CK OFF!" I kept repeating it over and over. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the guys from the group watching in amazement. 

The jackals left. I turned my attention to the guys in my group. 

"What the f*ck? Didn't you see all that?" 
"Yeah! But you looked like you had a handle on things!"

I guess I did, but it would have been nice to have backup. 

As the night flowed on, so did the booze, and so did my female friends' drunkenness. One of them was recently single. She disappeared into the crowd and returned with a guy from a wedding party. I watched the pair because my drunk friend was entertaining and because I was suspicious of men from wedding parties. 

Let's be real here. If you're single, and you go to a wedding, you mostly want to get laid at some point. 

My drunk friend was like a butterfly - beautiful and all over the place. She fluttered between our friends and this wedding party guy. The guy disappeared when my friend fluttered back to us for a while. I looked for him. 

When I finally spotted him, I saw that he was with another woman from the wedding party - a drunk girlfriend? She could barely stand. She had no idea what was happening. After a few moments of the two of them speaking, I saw them kissing. He then sat her down and returned to my friend.

I could not believe my eyes. 

I told my friend's sister who said she would alert my friend. 

I continued to observe this pattern - my friend fluttering between this guy and us, and the guy fluttering between my friend and kissing this other woman. 

The club was closing. I saw my friend's sister confront the guy. I positioned myself so I could hear what was going on. He started to deny everything. Again, I was ignited. 

"You LIAR! You're a freaking liar! I freaking saw you!"

With a straight face, he denied my eyewitness accusation. 

"Why would I lie? And who was I kissing?"
"I'm not going to play these games with you. How old are you? 26?"
"I'm 27."
"You act like you're 12. Get out of here. You know what you did."
Again, he challenged me. "Why would I lie?"
I decided to be crude. I pointed to my friend's vaginal area.
"To get that. That's why. Now get out of here."

At that moment, my friend took off running like Laura Ingalls in the prairie. Her sister ran after her. I walked over to the pair. There was a brief discussion about where everyone was parked. I had enough and told them I was going home.

The drive was long and it gave me time to process everything. Is this the state of men these days? Is this what we have been reduced to? I wanted the days of my father - where men were noble and courtship was authentic. I needed hope.

I said a small prayer to myself, to meet the right man soon, and to never be paired with a cheater or a closet misogynist. I deserve better.

We all do.