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 |  Life is rough...I have to write it out. |
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I start blogs.....I neglect blogs....I abandon blogs. I start blogs.....I neglect blogs....I abandon blogs. I started this blog....I loved this blog....I abandoned this blog. I started this blog....I loved this blog....I abandoned this blog. I guess it is a good thing I didn't actually hold my breath. |
| And so begins yet another post of sunshine and optimism. A handful of days ago I was in a gas station in a less than desirable part of downtown. I say that and to some people this is true but if I am being honest I didn’t realize that until people wouldn’t shut their traps about it. Wondering why I was even in this part of town. Seriously? My inability to notice belies my comfort level here on this side of town. And also….fuck off. Anyway - I was in this gas station overburdened by handfuls of junk food. My friend is in front of me in line asking the poor kid behind the bulletproof glass (you’d think would indicate what kind of area I was in but it does not) why they never have her Vuse refills and why she would want this one he found in the back that expired months ago. I am behind her and there is a guy behind me. A shifty dude. I do not mean the sly trickery of a shiester, I mean he was shifting about like the floor was lava. Whatever - dance dude I don’t give a fuck - I just don’t like all this movement behind me. Things are taking a long time because of my friend. A woman comes in talking about “Damn this line is long” and about how bad she has to pee. She offers me and the shifty dude money to let her cut in line. Actually, her offer was, “I will give you a dollar...five dollars if you let me cut.” Except you are about to buy a fucking Now ‘n Later with that debit card in your hand to get the restroom key and you got a dollar to give me??? I am confident in saying I am certain it has come up in this blog before that I do not do these things. I am not nice like that. You don’t cut me in line, you don’t get in front of me in traffic, and god forbid you to try to get out of a parking lot and need me to stop further back so you can get out - not ever going to happen. I am walking your same path today and I got here first. Suck it up. So...she isn’t gonna cut me but I do not feel the urge to tell her so...yet. The shifty dude tells her no but you know...girl who practically has piss running down her leg flirting with guy who has meth feet always equals good results. I step forward to pay and my friend leaves the gas station. I pay - make fun of my friend with the poor kid behind the glass and then I am done. Done with that - the fun was just beginning. I turn to walk away and there he is - shifty dude. But not like behind me in line and certainly not socially distanced. In fact, I tasted this mother fucker’s breath. He was just that close to me. And he was fucking mad. Enraged. Hulking the fuck out. He grabs my arms and while saying, “excuse me,” tosses me approximately four feet into a display of 2/$1.00 chips, fish bowls of zigzags and $0.99 JOBs, and a hanging display of colorful folding fans. My sunglasses fly off the top of my head, my real glasses fly off my face, and my mother fucking mask flies back to the counter. I stand up and shifty dude is charging piss girl saying, “I ain’t playin withcu bitch.” To which she replies, “Damn man you ain’t gotta touch though.” Well - no chick, he doesn’t but as far as I can see - motherfucker didn’t even touch you. I can’t be too mad about some of this. I would have had my own version of, I ain’t playin witchu bitch if she had tried to get in front of me after I said no. But here is the problem….I am unexpectedly triggered like a mother fucker. Twenty-four years ago I was raped and held captive. Hahahaha. Yes. Like some stupid television show - held captive. Stupid but true. However. The last time someone touched me in an...unsafe or even remotely bad way...was twenty-four years ago. My bitchiness is multiplied by three, I started having the nightmare I haven’t had or even thought about in at least fifteen years….I am annihilating all progress ever made and calling it okay because of all the other shit going on in my life right now. So that was fun.
Now for someone who really pissed me off today. The woman I wrote about recently who called me so I could witness her break with reality. You know….the Tom Hanks woman who wanted me to remember that Africa was a continent. She texted me this morning asking if my phone was still my phone. I said yes because the bipolar in me can’t just write off the fact that Kid A’s friend is alone over there with this woman. She asks if I can talk uninterrupted. Fuck! Are you kidding me? I suddenly feel certain she is calling to give me a new conspiracy theory about Trump’s diagnosis. So I say no. She then texts back to say that when I get a chance I should call her. That she wants to talk to me about something very serious regarding Kid A. That Kid A is not in trouble she promises but she wants to get it all out without having to be interrupted. What the fuck. Great. Now I have to call this woman. So I wait. I get home and call this woman mid-mind alteration. She proceeds to tell me a story that she has a disclaimer for. Great. She wants me to remember that she hates Kid A’s friend, Friend K. This is well known and it is because her daughter and Friend K hate each other. She has some bias here. Plus she is whackadoo. She says Friend K (who by the way is gay) has been touching Kid A’s ass and tits. He has been following Kid A into the bathroom and refusing to leave. She has a ton of evidence she has compiled to show that this kid is evolving from bully to sexual predator. She has even gone to Kid A’s other friend’s house and sat down with him and his parent to get screenshots of conversations and to discuss the meaning of sexual assault. She thinks I should maybe even have him arrested. This entire situation has nothing to do with her and her daughter. Perhaps less than nothing. What is she doing going around doing some private dick bullshit? **Let me insert here that not only does she have only about 10% of the information correct, but it has also been a year and dealt with over here. And so this part of the story ends. No worries - my twelve-year-old is not getting assaulted by her gay friend. I listen and say yes and no when it is appropriate. And wait for this to end. However. This is where it takes a turn. This is where she decided to inform me WHY this is happening. And here is why…. Kid A has been taught to be a people pleaser and perhaps if she had been taught ways to deal with boys who touch her tits or even maybe taught that boys are not allowed to touch her if she doesn’t want them to then she would have had the tools to stop this. Listen to me bitch. Oh and one more thing. This would never happen to her daughter because her daughter has been taught to point and laugh at a dick that is coming at her. But Kid A has been taught to be a people pleaser. Another thing I know I have droned on and on about since the very beginning of this blog is Kid A. Her struggles and my battle with the town, the school, the parents. Anyone. Everyone. I have been clear about my assistance in whatever way needed when it came to her being whatever she chose, looking however she feels, believing whatever she wants. Anything. Everything. That the level of honesty we do in this house borders on obscene and that it works so very fucking well for us. I do not think anyone who even is exposed to me slightly would begin to believe that I have not told Kid A that no one can touch her without her permission. Nor should it be believed that I have not told her things to do or say in a variety of situations. This is not something I would ever neglect. Not as a woman, not as a mother, and not as a rape victim. She ended her monologue with this bullshit, “I know you agree...a mother is a mother is a mother and I look out for all of them.” And to that I say, A mother is a mother is a mother but only one of us is a mother to Kid A and it is not you. And this should not be something I am having to say so many times. I fucking have lube if life would just ask. |
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