There we were, my husband and I, both trying to get that ever-so-important final word in. I can’t even tell you what we were bickering about, but I’m positive that it was something dumb – bickering is always for something dumb. If it was of any importance, it certainly would have escalated into an actual argument and I’d know exactly what it was pertaining to…and why I was right and my husband was wrong.
Yeah, okay…whatever you say.
Seriously! I just tried to end this.
After all that, an exceptional statement came out of my mouth:
I’m not going to let that bother me.
Brandin just looked back at me and I watched a smirk grow on his face, and that was that.
Okay, okay…I admit, I fully intended for that statement to be snide; one more little jab. I was legit surprised when I realized I actually felt better, and not a VICTORY-IS-MINE sorta better, it was as if I had literally just chucked that bicker-fest out the window.
What was supposed to be a disparaging remark, turned into quite the opposite. Give it a whirl, and not only when squabbling. For instance:
Oh, the jerk in the fancy car just cut me off? I’m not going to let that bother me.
Interesting… You canceled plans with me because you have a headache – and you were just tagged on Facebook at Applebee’s? I’m not going to let that bother me.
My dog that was just outside for 20 minutes but still crapped on the floor. I’m not going to let that bother me.
There is really something to this, I promise. I’m no head-doctor and I’m certainly not an expert in staying calm (ask my husband) but hearing those words, they’ve helped digest situations and from there, there’s a choice. Is it worth the negative feelings? More often than not, I’d rather just stay in a good mood.
A few weeks ago my mom came out for a visit and brought hundreds of old photos with her. Every single one of them had me in them, she’d sorted through all these old pictures in her house and gave myself and my siblings these old treasures; we each got a pile of ourselves. Some of them I’d seen a hundred times, and some I’d never seen.
Ugh, the memories.
Going through these gave me such a wave of emotions but not in a sappy, blubbery way. Mostly, I laughed and simply basked in the nostalgia that was.
Hot damn, I loved that sweater. Wore it in my school photo that year…
I’m sure my mom had to throw it away while I was at my dad’s for the weekend and console me when I noticed it was “missing” once it was too ill-fitting. Life has a silly way of bringing you up and tearing you down, while the universe quietly humbles you (with insanely large chompers).
Flipping through these photographs provided me with some insight: life was happening, the whole time. When I do the minimal memory seeking, it’s easy to forget the candidness and realness that was. Mindful memories will only give me what I want it to give, while the pictures provide the backstory.
I do remember that day, the one when the photo up there was taken, but I didn’t remember the loveliness that was just spinning around and dancing in my backyard. 1993, nine years old and my mom saught to capture me, the same way I capture my ten-year-old with my smartphone.
She probably had to wait a week to get that back. Who knows if she would have even kept it, nonetheless printed if it was today’s day and age. I’m going to start printing pictures of my kid, keep them somewhere safe, and someday I’ll hand him a big ol’ stack and let him reminisce in his own way.
I do have some honorable mentions because I wouldn’t go through hundreds and only share those, that’d be selfish.
These two are to prove that resting bitch face is something that can be detected early on. I’m sure I was happy, even though I look way less than impressed.
These two are to show my killer fashion sense. Scrunchies and jean jackets are life…
And finally, these two are to show that whatever year this was, was the absolute worst (and you should never, ever cut your own bangs).
Maybe he didn’t grab it. Perhaps it was more of a slap. I don’t know, and to be frank I have no obligation to explain details – he put his hand on my private parts, end of story. It doesn’t matter how, when, why, where or what the specifics were that day. What does matter, to me anyway, is that I call him out publicly, in hopes that he stops being such a goddamn creep.
I’ll tell you the whole story, but first I want to let other people know, if you’ve been disrespected, or sexually harassed – stand your ground. The humiliation does not lie on you. Maybe it doesn’t seem significant enough but at the very least… call them out. Spread the word, because shame on them, not us.
So anyway, I went to a bar to celebrate my friend’s birthday and a guy took it upon himself to grab my crotch, unprovoked and absolutely uninvited. He legit, Donald-Trump-Pussy-Grabbed me. This man was, and is not a stranger but he’s certainly not a friend. I’d maybe call him an acquaintance if he wasn’t such a douchebag, and if that term didn’t sound a little friendly. Unfortunately, our lives seem to cross paths about once a week, so I was less than surprised when he was also there to celebrate.
I was walking towards the bathroom when the birthday girl and crotch-grabber started walking in my direction, excited because they had just won some money on the gambling machine. Happy for her, who shouldn’t win on their birthday? I hugged her, not paying much attention to the guy at the center of the story. This is when it happened. I felt it, grasped my friend’s face and with wide eyes exclaimed:..
OH MY FUCKING GOD, HE JUST GRABBED MY PUSSY!
Yes, I am a lady, and sometimes ladies use that word also. Especially when the situation calls for more serious vocabulary, of the colorful variety.
I walked away, shocked, passing another friend and without hesitation I told her too. I did not, and still do not care who knows. I have no interest in protecting him and ideally he’d be as embarrassed as humanly possible.
After I exited the bathroom he approached me, and hold onto your shorts folks because you’ll never guess what he said to me. He did not apologize, rather told me that I need to simmer down. Me. Simmer down. I am not typically one to have a filter, and looking back now I’m disgustingly surprised that I did not lose my shit on him right then and there. I was so offended that I simply walked away.
Then, after already taking it upon himself to make my body his entertainment, and after his snarky attitude followed… he had the audacity to approach me yet again.
He rested his elbow on my shoulder, I looked up at him and plainly stated: My husband will kill you. His response? “Are you threatening me?” If you didn’t stress that statement with a solid douchebag accent, feel free to re-read it. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, while all of this is taking place my husband is at the event with me. That takes balls, his confidence is astounding.
I don’t know if he’s stupid enough to believe women, married women at that, are into grotesque social graces such as those or if he’s simply just a tasteless little boy with a lack of morals. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I’m not impressed, and sincerely hope he finds himself reading this and feels even the most mild sense of shame.
This happened three month ago. Initially I kept this from my husband because 1.) I didn’t want him to go to jail and 2.) I didn’t want to put myself, or my man in a position where he’d have to ask me – Why would he think it’s okay to do that? It’s a fair question. Why did Creeper McCreeperston feel like that was okay? What gives someone that caliber of entitlement? I have no answers, but secrets out. Now everyone knows.
So to you: you know who you are, you know that other people know who you are. I’m hoping that since I got this off my chest I can finally start doing what you asked and simmer down. None of the questions I asked here require an answer, you’re not worth my time. I’m not threatening you, but politely warning: don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, and keep your fucking hands off me. Don’t offer to put my drink on your tab, and stop pretending that we’re friends. To me, you’re nothing more than a disgusting bar rat.
Hours, days, minutes, years.
Moments, desires, people.
All of them.
Little things, big intentions.
Bad Decisions, questions, excuses.
Realization, apologies, tears.
Hours, days, minutes, years.
This whole self-employment thing? The good news is…I feel like I’m working. I’m pleased with the fact that I do not feel like I quit my job & just sit on my fat ass. I do sit on my fat ass… but productively.
There is a plan.
I’ve made more money than I initially budgeted for and to stay on task I’ve created a list of chores that can be done around the house when I need a break from the words. This massive list of housework, that includes shit that doesn’t even matter? Yeah…it exists 100% as a preventative measure
…so I do not turn on Dateline. Lord knows I would make an excuse to watch one more… after 7.
They are so sneaky. Has anyone else noticed how there are conveniently no commercials between the end of one episode into the beginning of the next?
It’s just something I’ve learned over the years.
With my new found evenings that I’ve regained, I found myself spending quality time with my husband. Doing what? Oh, ya know…just normal shit that typical people who grew up in the 90’s should do… watching music videos on YouTube (which totally beats the VHS tapes I used to record them on). Obviously, my choice was the Jason Derulo & Luke Bryan Skype duet…
Brandin: As a man…I can acknowledge that Luke Bryan is good looking.
[…45 seconds in]
Brandin: I hate him.
[…45 seconds later]
Branding: If 100 girls were polled with a lineup of multiple men… He would obviously be the one that majority of the women are attracted to.
Me: You’ve thought about this a lot haven’t you?
Brandin: I hate him.
But he really doesn’t… it was a lovely moment we had. I’ve also been graced with more time to play scrabble with Brandin and Bennett.
The point is… I’m happy to have time again. Having my evenings back is #ucking amazing.
I’ll be starting a job as a waitress at a supper club September first-ish. One of their servers is leaving to go to Thailand because… well, opportunity presented itself and she grabbed it – leaving the opening for me, who also grabbed an opportunity. I’m a firm believer in the idea that everything happens for a reason – and this makes sense to me. Besides, there is something about hanging out with people who are out to have a good time, and getting paid for it – that is kind of awesome; I’ve sincerely missed serving.
Basically, my house is super clean… I get to have meaningful conversation with my husband & spend more time with my offspring.