(no subject)
Today was lovely. Absolutely, completely 100% lovely.
Up until about an hour and a half ago.
I got into Liverpool late Friday night, had many miznarrator cuddles and a full eight hours sleep, then we went to breakfast, went shopping, and took the train to Crosby (just north of the city) to see Anthony Gormley's installation piece, Another Place. We walked down the beach for maybe a mile, almost sunk in quicksand at one point (not really), and sat on a sand dune and watched the sunset, drinking tea and eating muffins, and it was basically perfect.
We then went back to Liverpool and had burritos (improbably tasty, for a foodstuff so very far from home), then Miz N had whiskey (she's in a whiskey-drinking phase; I still think whiskey may as well be rubbing alcohol, for all the flavour it has) and I had cider and then we met her friends from school down the pub for a bit.
Then we went to a different pub, and these three guys decided we should sit with them. One of them struck up a conversation with Miz N that was both enjoyable and insightful, which she thoroughly enjoyed. The other two... well. They decided that all we had to talk about was where we were from ('AMERICA! That's AMAZING!') and sports ('What do you MEAN you don't watch football/cricket/whatev?? It's an excuse to get drunk!!'), neither of which I really wanted to engage with as a topic of conversation. Also, they used 'gay' as a synonym for 'shitty' which, naturally, goes down REALLY WELL with me. Also, the one bloke across the table from me kept trying to chat to me specifically, with his lips saying 'blah blah so do you watch the football blah' and the rest of his demeanor saying '... yeah, I'll have this one. I've had enough to drink, I'll do her.' I was ridiculously relieved when everyone's pints were finished and we all left these charmers to it.
Then Miz N and I got on the bus to go home. It was crowded, so we sat at the very back of the bus - you know, where there are five seats across? Next stop after we got on, a young man dressed in a heather gray sweatsuit and a ballcap sits in the middle seat, right next to me, and proceeds to attempt to chat me up. Aggressively. By whatever means necessary.
Now, I know I have this special mutant superpower that draws these arseholes to me. I know I've got 'VICTIM' written on my forehead with invisible ink that only these fuckers can read. I've learned this over YEARS and YEARS of agonizing, polite, painfully awkward, utterly terrifying social interaction. But I'm here to tell you, it doesn't get any easier to take. Even when your girlfriend is as bolshy and stand-offish as mine is, and takes your arm and physically turns you away from the confrontation; even when she intentionally engages with the dude, just to distract him from you. Nope, still not okay. Still not going to make you feel anything but impotent rage and fear and helplessness and blinding frustration.
Frustration which is, of course, compounded by the fact that you're sitting arm-in-arm with your significant other and you can't acknowledge who she is to you for the fear that Gray Sweatsuit will go 'phobic on you, either violently or in that insidious 'oh, but love, all you really need's a good deep dicking to turn you straight' way.
I know it's all the patriarchy's fault. Intellectually, I know that. But in my head, I could always be doing something else to turn these dickfaces away - I could say 'no' less politely, more confidently; I could be less concerned about making a scene; I could say something wittier, something meaner, something smarter, and that something would make them back off and leave me alone. I know I'm blaming myself for something that is not my fault. I do.
It's just that knowing something and believing it are two different things. And either way, I still feel fucking terrible.
So, basically, some assholes ruin everything for everybody. Tomorrow, I'll be big and strong and ignore them and have a goddamn nice day regardless. In fact, I'mma gonna sleep right now so I can get started on tomorrow (today, really) that much sooner.
Up until about an hour and a half ago.
I got into Liverpool late Friday night, had many miznarrator cuddles and a full eight hours sleep, then we went to breakfast, went shopping, and took the train to Crosby (just north of the city) to see Anthony Gormley's installation piece, Another Place. We walked down the beach for maybe a mile, almost sunk in quicksand at one point (not really), and sat on a sand dune and watched the sunset, drinking tea and eating muffins, and it was basically perfect.
We then went back to Liverpool and had burritos (improbably tasty, for a foodstuff so very far from home), then Miz N had whiskey (she's in a whiskey-drinking phase; I still think whiskey may as well be rubbing alcohol, for all the flavour it has) and I had cider and then we met her friends from school down the pub for a bit.
Then we went to a different pub, and these three guys decided we should sit with them. One of them struck up a conversation with Miz N that was both enjoyable and insightful, which she thoroughly enjoyed. The other two... well. They decided that all we had to talk about was where we were from ('AMERICA! That's AMAZING!') and sports ('What do you MEAN you don't watch football/cricket/whatev?? It's an excuse to get drunk!!'), neither of which I really wanted to engage with as a topic of conversation. Also, they used 'gay' as a synonym for 'shitty' which, naturally, goes down REALLY WELL with me. Also, the one bloke across the table from me kept trying to chat to me specifically, with his lips saying 'blah blah so do you watch the football blah' and the rest of his demeanor saying '... yeah, I'll have this one. I've had enough to drink, I'll do her.' I was ridiculously relieved when everyone's pints were finished and we all left these charmers to it.
Then Miz N and I got on the bus to go home. It was crowded, so we sat at the very back of the bus - you know, where there are five seats across? Next stop after we got on, a young man dressed in a heather gray sweatsuit and a ballcap sits in the middle seat, right next to me, and proceeds to attempt to chat me up. Aggressively. By whatever means necessary.
Now, I know I have this special mutant superpower that draws these arseholes to me. I know I've got 'VICTIM' written on my forehead with invisible ink that only these fuckers can read. I've learned this over YEARS and YEARS of agonizing, polite, painfully awkward, utterly terrifying social interaction. But I'm here to tell you, it doesn't get any easier to take. Even when your girlfriend is as bolshy and stand-offish as mine is, and takes your arm and physically turns you away from the confrontation; even when she intentionally engages with the dude, just to distract him from you. Nope, still not okay. Still not going to make you feel anything but impotent rage and fear and helplessness and blinding frustration.
Frustration which is, of course, compounded by the fact that you're sitting arm-in-arm with your significant other and you can't acknowledge who she is to you for the fear that Gray Sweatsuit will go 'phobic on you, either violently or in that insidious 'oh, but love, all you really need's a good deep dicking to turn you straight' way.
I know it's all the patriarchy's fault. Intellectually, I know that. But in my head, I could always be doing something else to turn these dickfaces away - I could say 'no' less politely, more confidently; I could be less concerned about making a scene; I could say something wittier, something meaner, something smarter, and that something would make them back off and leave me alone. I know I'm blaming myself for something that is not my fault. I do.
It's just that knowing something and believing it are two different things. And either way, I still feel fucking terrible.
So, basically, some assholes ruin everything for everybody. Tomorrow, I'll be big and strong and ignore them and have a goddamn nice day regardless. In fact, I'mma gonna sleep right now so I can get started on tomorrow (today, really) that much sooner.