Open Letter and Reminder to Self (TW: violating consent)
Dear Skype: how exactly is it that having blocked the one person in my entire adult life who's made me feel unsafe in my own home, who stripped me of my last shred of tolerance for douchebags who consider consent anything less than a black and white issue, makes you think I WANT YOU TO KEEP TELLING ME IT'S HIS FUCKING BIRTHDAY???
So yeah. Skype thought it would remind me that Vilas has a birthday today. Twice. He's 43 years old, the useless man-child. As of when he turned 42, he still hadn't figured out that when a woman starts avoiding being alone with you, when she makes up other things to do until your constant nagging wears her down and she lets you come over, when she wears dramatically more clothes than usual when you're around, when she moves away from you every time you lay a hand on her, she's not putting out the welcome mat. She's trying to make you stop stomping all over her boundaries without making a scene.
In the end, I had to make a scene. I told him:
"I know you probably don't mean to do it, but I'm tired of not feeling safe when you're around. I'm not interested in sleeping with you anymore, and I'm tired of constantly being pressured. You sulk and pout when I don't put out. You never stop touching me, and I mean sexually -- every time you massage me, it's never just a massage. I feel violated. I tell you i have no libido at all, and you still fucking grope me. You snuggle up to me, and you poke me, and then you make a big deal out of tucking it away so it won't bother me. I cover the parts I don't want you to touch, and you uncover them. I dread you coming over because it means I'll have to fend off your advances AGAIN. I'm done. And I know you're not trying to be a predator, but the bottom line is I don't feel safe."
I ran into him a couple of weeks ago, when I went to get my criminal records check so I could do clergy visitation at the jail. Well, I sort of ran into him. I saw the back of his head and heard his voice as I walked in the door, and I hid until he left. I hid from my ex at the fucking police station. How sick is that?
So yeah. Skype thought it would remind me that Vilas has a birthday today. Twice. He's 43 years old, the useless man-child. As of when he turned 42, he still hadn't figured out that when a woman starts avoiding being alone with you, when she makes up other things to do until your constant nagging wears her down and she lets you come over, when she wears dramatically more clothes than usual when you're around, when she moves away from you every time you lay a hand on her, she's not putting out the welcome mat. She's trying to make you stop stomping all over her boundaries without making a scene.
In the end, I had to make a scene. I told him:
"I know you probably don't mean to do it, but I'm tired of not feeling safe when you're around. I'm not interested in sleeping with you anymore, and I'm tired of constantly being pressured. You sulk and pout when I don't put out. You never stop touching me, and I mean sexually -- every time you massage me, it's never just a massage. I feel violated. I tell you i have no libido at all, and you still fucking grope me. You snuggle up to me, and you poke me, and then you make a big deal out of tucking it away so it won't bother me. I cover the parts I don't want you to touch, and you uncover them. I dread you coming over because it means I'll have to fend off your advances AGAIN. I'm done. And I know you're not trying to be a predator, but the bottom line is I don't feel safe."
I ran into him a couple of weeks ago, when I went to get my criminal records check so I could do clergy visitation at the jail. Well, I sort of ran into him. I saw the back of his head and heard his voice as I walked in the door, and I hid until he left. I hid from my ex at the fucking police station. How sick is that?