This Is Really Humiliating.

This is really humiliating.

And slightly disgusting.

I have a hang up with seeing people on the toilet and vice versa. I know it’s not common for someone to really like that, but often couples or close friends sort of ‘get over it’ and do it if the situation demands.  

I can’t.  It makes my skin crawl.  Multiply it by 1000 if they are pooping.

He took every possible opportunity to force me to come in to the bathroom while he was taking a dump.  Be it he was out of tp or he just wanted to tell me something.  

He walked in on me a handful of times. I felt vulnerable and powerless most of the time, but never so much as those moments.

He knew this.  He knew I hated it so much.  He knew it would drive me to drink and that it actually made me cry once.   Even now I’m having to break to pace the floor.  But he thought it was funny.  He also liked that I’d have to smell his shit.

I am so angry.

Bad week.

You can usually gauge my current mental health state based on the frequency of my posts.

More posts = more cranial chaos.

I am speechless.

So I blog about being physically, emotionally, psychologically, financially and sexually abused by my ex, as well as a series of other traumas I’ve survived at the hands of violent, predatory, aggressive, and misogynist men.  There’s really no mistaking it; I tag the shit out of this thing.  

And THIS is the sponsored ad on my dash?  Really @staff ? WTF?!

Cishet man makes woman extremely uncomfortable: volume 2318864314652217

I am a woman out after dark, so we all know I was asking for it, but this guy was something else. I was cruising on my phone on a bench in my city’s downtown.

Enter overly confident stranger stage right who invites me for a drink at a bar.  I hesitate for half a second which of course he takes to mean yes. 

Man: Of course you do, come on, we’re going. 

He’s invited me to one of my regular haunts, and it’s not far from where I parked, so I reluctantly agree at his insistence.  I order my usual and have to explain that I don’t drink.  He looks dejected for a moment.

Man: Maybe I should stop drinking too.

Uh huh.  Some chitchat was pleasant enough, then after some silly back and forth about “honesty” (”I have to be honest, I’m an engineer.  Do you hate me?  *eyeroll*) I let him know that I’m queer.  Silly me, thinking that this would shut his ass down.

He “doesn’t get” queer. So I, thinking his question was genuine, attempt to explain that it’s handy for those of us who don’t fit under the first four letters of the alphabet soup.  An umbrella term of sorts.

He asked about my sexuality personally.  This was a bit presumptuous I though.  However I explained that I am pansexual, and what that means.  

Man: So you’re still attracted to men!

Me: ...theoretically.  However my experiences have made me uninterested in men.

Man: Just experiences did that?  You can’t overcome them?

Me:  *a little more firmly* ... I don’t do men.

Man:  So tell me, do you find me attractive?

Me:  *takes a deep breathe*

Man:  No, no, I guess you don’t.  Don’t tell me.  I don’t want to hear it.

Me:  You are an attractive person.  I just don’t like men.

Man:  So what would make me attractive to you? 

Me:  ....  you could start with not being a man?

Man:   Well, maybe I should try to be a woman.  Or nonbinary.  Maybe I am a woman.  Or nonbinary.  I might like it.  I’ve never tried it. 

Me:  .... it’s not like.. trying gin for the first time...

Man:  but I’ve never tried it!

Me:  ... That’s not the way it works.

Man:  Do you want me to cut if off?

Me:  This is getting weird.

Man:  It sure is.  Do you have a knife on you?

Me:  Please... don’t.  I have to go to the washroom.

I told him I needed to be up for work in the morning, thanked him for the drink and ducked out despite his protestations 

Man: “Don’t you want to chill or something?”

No.  I didn’t.  I don’t.  My sexuality is not a whim or a joke or whatever you were trying to make it.  Furthermore, the gall of trying to continue to get me to fuck you after I’ve straight up told you I’m not interested is coercion  and I’m not interested in being with someone who can’t take a hint glaring, obvious note.  

I didn’t say any of the last bit, and I wish I had.  But  I’m proud that I got myself out of there.  It’s progress.  The old me would have suffered through that interaction further with the guilt of him having bought me a $1.75 drink. I may have even let him have me.

Not this time.  Not anymore.

The last time.

The last time he and I spoke I told him about the brother in law of one of my close friends.  He was in the hospital with sepsis and it was not looking good.  I told him how I felt terrible for my friend and her husband, and how I wish there was something I could do to comfort them.

He asked me why I was bothered. He said I never cared about his struggles or his burdens, so why was I taking this personally?  Furthermore, he told me that I was messed up enough myself that I didn’t have time or energy to worry about anyone else.

My friend’s brother in law subsequently died.

That's a bit unsettling.

I have stumbled upon a small stack of gift cards that I apparently purchased December 20 around 1am. Not exactly chump change.

I have no recollection if doing this at all.