Fucking Creepers, Man

I don’t know what it is about me, but my milkshake brings all the crazies to yard, and I’m like “FUCK NO!”

In all seriousness, though, there’s not a lot of humour to be had on this one. Milady says that I act like a weirdo-magnet, and well. She’s kinda right. Most often, this makes my life interesting — providing story fodder and WTF?-moments that are fun to recount later. Sometimes, it brings awesome into my life. Other times, though? Yeah, there are times when that little talent of mine brings is-it-time-to-call-the-cops? kinds of crazy into my life.

This was one of those times.

I won’t go into the details, because they really aren’t relevant. The broad strokes of the story goes thusly:

  • Fatherbot’s friend’s brother was over the other day to visit his sister (Fatherbot’s friend), and happened to catch a glimpse of me as I walked from one room to another
  • After this one brief sighting, he decided that I was the most gorgeous human being ever, and he was going to try to hit that
  • He mentioned this to his sister, who told him he was barking up the wrong tree — and he decided that, even if I had a male significant other, he was still going to try to hit that
  • His sister then broke the news that, sorry dude, she’s so gay she shits rainbows
  • His reaction? “That sucks. But hey, at least I can still think about her. And hey, maybe I can watch!”

There is just so much NO here that I’m not sure where to even begin. The people who know me have heard me go on about this already, for which I apologize, but this has just been eating at my brain, in no small part because this is not the first time something like this has happened. It still grosses and/or creeps me out every time, though.

Because, Issue the First: Equating Beauty with Sex and Sexuality. This guy saw me, and thought I was beautiful. And, okay, that’s a nice compliment. But to go from “She’s beautiful!” to “She’s so beautiful I wanna [x] her [y]” is not a compliment. It’s conflating beauty with sexual appeal. There are a lot of beautiful things in this world, and we don’t judge the level of beauty or worth of those things based on whether or not we can make magic happen during Happy Alone Time. I mean, a beautiful painting or landscape or sunset isn’t immediately sexualized. So why can’t women be appreciated aesthetically the same way, without immediately evaluating her appearance on a sliding scale of personal sexual appeal?

Issue the Second: Objectification. It’s bad enough that he saw me and started storing spank-bank material (God, I wish I was making that up), but the fact that he only ever saw me once and never even spoke to me? That kind of takes it to serial-killer levels of creepy. There has literally been zero interaction between us — he just saw me walking by, and decided that I was something to “chase after”. He made that decision based on nothing more than my appearance, treating me within his own mind as an object to acquire rather than an autonomous and complex person in my own right.

Issue the Third: Disrespect and Entitlement. It’s bad enough that this guy fixated on, objectified, and then jerked it to me. Like, really. That is quite enough gross for one carbon-based life form. But it didn’t stop there. Not by a long stretch of a short dick. No, this guy took it one step further — because, in deciding to pursue me regardless of my relationship status, he revealed a massive disregard for women, disrespect for me and my choices, and an alarming sense of entitlement. I am a human being, and that means that my decision to be in a monogamous relationship with someone who is not him deserves as much respect as the theoretical decision to be in a relationship with him. In disrespecting that choice, he devalued (if not flat-out negated) my autonomy, and disrespected my partner. The fact that he felt entitled to encroach on my relationship and disrespect me this way for no other reason than that he tented his jeans is vomit-worthy. And that’s without mentioning the disrespect he showed Fatherbot by coming into his home as a guest and then disrespecting me this way.

(Side Note: Fatherbot and I talked, and we are both of the opinion that this shit-stain isn’t welcome here, and won’t darken our doorstep again if he knows what’s good for him. Because I have several people upset on my behalf right now, never mind the chunk I want to tear out of his hide.)

Issue the Fourth: Fetishization. I mean, on the one hand, I’m glad that my raging case of homosexuality stopped this dickface from trying to pursue me. I really am. It’s kind of the silver lining to this bucketload of horse shit. But it also created its own issue, one that I’ve run into a few times now and that never stops being insulting and disgusting in equal measure: being fetishized. I am a person, not a fetish. I don’t care what porn says, I don’t care what culture says, I don’t care what Joe Schmoe down the street says or thinks. I have the right to choose who I take into my bed and bedroom, and that includes the right to refuse someone entry. My relationship with Milady and what we do behind closed doors is not something we talk about much or post on the internet because we are private people, and because we’re not interested in fuelling invasive assholes’ prurient obsession with lesbian sex. We want to be seen as people, not a free peep show.

And shit like this? It’s what makes me so fond of hermitage. Unfortunately, the other people I live with don’t feel the same — hence having to deal with people and their gross. But one day (that cannot come soon enough), Milady and I will have our own little enclave wherein we will hide and flip the rest of the world the bird. (Exceptions to this: You Know Who You Are.)

For now, that will be my Happy Place.
~

I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.

 

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