It's been a busy week between work, family, and friends. There's been quite a bit of internal rearranging and I have to say, I attribute part of my new found confidence to the relief I get when I crank out another disgusting story from my dating history.
With the development of technology and how it applies to our dating and love lives (or one-night-stand, hook up, fuck buddy lives), manners seem to have fallen by the wayside. No more are the days when a nice man smiles at the pretty girl as he holds open the door. When do lashes bat as an invitation to continue conversation or engage in flirtation? It's been at least a decade since I met someone face to face in a comfortable, sweet sort of way.
John was a friend of friends. I had known of him for several years and was interested in getting to know him more. We had seen each other and exchanged conversation from time to time but it wasn't until after an evening at the theater that we were able to talk and get to know each other. It certainly helps to invite alcohol into the situation, especially when there's an obvious tension.
We argued, something that continued to carry on in our painfully long relationship. In particular he was telling me how much he hates children. I don't very much care for children myself but I don't vehemently hate them. Especially when they're not interfering with my life; bad parenting, on the other hand, well...we won't go there. Not today.
I told John that if he hated children so much he should resign himself to the idea of ever having sex again. He proclaimed he was going to get a vasectomy; I replied that he shouldn't have sex until he's had the procedure done. And round and round we went.
I was still interested despite the argument and told him I wanted to get to know him further. I'm sure it didn't sound as put together and eloquent as that but you get the idea. Rather than set a date, the man slapped me across the face.
He laughed and I slapped him back. And again, he slapped me. I left.
The next morning there was a drunken email in my facebook telling me how he didn't think I was a "bitch" (because he called me that during our argument and not surprisingly it isn't the first time I'd heard that applied to myself) and that he wanted to hang out. So we hung out. For far too long. But he never slapped me again.
Drunk or not, playful or not, I am puzzled why a slap across the face should be interpreted as an invitation for flirtation. Is that flirtation? I won't put the blame entirely on John; he gave me negative attention which I sucked up. I tolerated the slap. I tolerated a lot of stuff in that relationship. I lowered the bar of what is tolerable in a relationship and I will own that to my dying day. I am not the first woman who has done this, sadly...and it seems almost as if men are allowed to behave like children and women are their toys. It's my fault, women's faults, media's fault, men's fault...whatever. Fortunately, however, it seems as though the older I get, the more confident I get, and the less bullshit I'll tolerate.
And I'll certainly not allow a man to ever strike me again.
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