Coward
I just spent the last hour crocheting. Not because I thought, "hey, I'm in the mood to work on the blanket", but because I was too scared to go outside. About two and a half hours ago, I was almost run over by some guy in a BMW, on his phone, not paying any attention to the crosswalk, the stop sign or me. I pointed at the sign, said "hey! stop sign! fucker..." and figured he never saw or heard me.
I was wrong. He turned his car around. He swore at me. I told him maybe he should pay attention to the road and not run people over. Oh, he was nowhere *near* me, he said. He followed me for a block, telling me what a bitch I was, that next time I said something like that I'd better be careful 'cause he could "really smack me up. *if* that's the kind of guy he was", and kept on and on, swearing at me, barely-indirectly threatening me, for almost the whole block. Mind you, he's *still* on the phone with whomever as well. I finally told him if he kept following me, I'd call the cops. He finally got in his parting shot and turned around and left. I barely made it inside my door when I threw up. I fucking threw up out of fear. I've never felt so scared, so actually at physical risk from an individual in my adult life. I really was scared that he'd follow me home (I was formulating a plan for that as I approached the last turn before my house). I was scared that he would get pissed off enough and testosterone-driven enough to decide I did need smacking around. "Gee, if only I'd taken more self-defense classes" went through my head briefly. But no amount of self-defense work would have changed him following me or threatening me. No amount of self-defense work changes that he decided I was a safe target. Sometimes I hate that I'm female, that I'm short. Those two things independently and together make it okay for him to do that. The fact that I was on foot just made me all the less human, I guess.
He's gone. He didn't follow me home. He turned around and left before I made my last turn onto my block. I'm sure he doesn't know where I live. And I still don't feel okay going out of the house right now. And I'm really pissed about feeling so cowardly about it.
In the meantime, my blanket is almost done.
I was wrong. He turned his car around. He swore at me. I told him maybe he should pay attention to the road and not run people over. Oh, he was nowhere *near* me, he said. He followed me for a block, telling me what a bitch I was, that next time I said something like that I'd better be careful 'cause he could "really smack me up. *if* that's the kind of guy he was", and kept on and on, swearing at me, barely-indirectly threatening me, for almost the whole block. Mind you, he's *still* on the phone with whomever as well. I finally told him if he kept following me, I'd call the cops. He finally got in his parting shot and turned around and left. I barely made it inside my door when I threw up. I fucking threw up out of fear. I've never felt so scared, so actually at physical risk from an individual in my adult life. I really was scared that he'd follow me home (I was formulating a plan for that as I approached the last turn before my house). I was scared that he would get pissed off enough and testosterone-driven enough to decide I did need smacking around. "Gee, if only I'd taken more self-defense classes" went through my head briefly. But no amount of self-defense work would have changed him following me or threatening me. No amount of self-defense work changes that he decided I was a safe target. Sometimes I hate that I'm female, that I'm short. Those two things independently and together make it okay for him to do that. The fact that I was on foot just made me all the less human, I guess.
He's gone. He didn't follow me home. He turned around and left before I made my last turn onto my block. I'm sure he doesn't know where I live. And I still don't feel okay going out of the house right now. And I'm really pissed about feeling so cowardly about it.
In the meantime, my blanket is almost done.