This is something my partner and I ask each other on a daily basis. We’re pretty quiet people for the most part, and once in awhile, we’re able to share moments where we simply stare at each other and feel comfortable enough to sit silently. After an extended period of time, after one of us realizes that we haven’t spoken in some time, we ask one another, ” what are you thinking?” It happened this morning when we woke up. Every morning, we slowly rouse to the sound of seven snoozes. After the fourth or fifth round of beeping, we’re both fairly awake and snuggling into each other, delaying our inevitable departure from our night’s sleep and our lover’s arms. Today, horrible thoughts came into my mind as we lay close, my head on her shoulder, her arm abound by back.
About two months ago, we went out to dinner in our town, about a mile down the road from our apartment. It was a frigid New England night, it had snowed the previous week and we were in a deep freeze, complete with below zero wind chill. I decided to pull my leather jacket out of the furthest reaches of our closet in an attempt to cut down on wind to bone penetration. On our way out of dinner, we hurriedly walked up the block to our car. Normally, we would be hand in hand, walking leisurely and talking softly. Tonight, Allison carried the doggy bag and my hands were in my pockets for frostbite prevention. Then, there was a moment. A tall, older man walked by us, on Allison’s side. She was telling me a story from her day at work, and between intently listening to her and blocking out other sounds, I heard these words spewed out of the man’s mouth- “Nice girls… dress like… nice boys.” He had just passed me when I realized he was making a comment towards us. I stopped in my tracks, turned my head, and said “what the fuck?” The man continued to get into a parked car, a black Mercedes Benz nonetheless, and I thought it was over. In an attempt to try and calm me down, Allison pulled my hand out of my pocket and asked me what he said. The black benz then pulled up beside us, horn ablaze, and the man waving at us until I lunged forward and he peeled off.
I was thinking about what I should have done that night to teach this guy a lesson. All of my thought out scenarios end in violence, which is frightening. I am a staunch pacifist. I don’t believe in fists, or keying cars, or kneeing balls, or breaking teeth. But these are the things I wish I did to this tiny, insignificant prick. That night, I was furious. I felt I was the victim of a gay bashing and I thought I should report it to the police. I came up with any and all similes and metaphors comparing his need for a Mercedes to the size of his penis. And, of course, his inherent jealousy of seeing two women in love with each other instead of in love with his dick. All of this ending with, “I’m sorry your wife won’t fuck ya, buddy, there’s male enhancement drugs that can help ya in that department.”
Even thought this was months ago, I still wonder, “what the fuck were you thinking, guy?” And, what the fuck was I thinking? Why didn’t I react with more aggression? I guess it’s just not something I’ve ever felt I had to plan for. I’ve lived in Massachusetts all my life. I don’t know what it’s like to be beaten up or constantly threatened for loving my girlfriend. I’m not used to it. I can’t figure out if this is a good thing or a bad thing. I still wish I could find that bastard and do something awful to him, because I’m sure this 90 second moment doesn’t come to his mind with any kind of regularity. But, I suppose it keeps me grounded in the fact that there’s so much more to be done. My experience is nothing in comparison to what other women and men go through in other parts of the country to just protect their love. It’s easy to just sit back and say fuck you to these ignorant assholes. I wish I could do more than that for my community.
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