“I feel like a dumb college girl that you started fucking because you were bored with your wife and I made it extremely convenient for you. You could go home to Amy and eat dinner with her and play around in your little bar that you bought with her money, then you could meet me at your dying dad’s house and jack off on my tits because, poor you, your mean wife would never let you do that.” […] “Fuck you. You think I’m some dumb kid, some pathetic student you can manage? I stick by you through all this, this talk about how you might be a murderer, and as soon as it’s a little tough for you? No, no. You don’t get to talk about conscience and decency and guilt and feel like you’re doing the right thing. Do you understand me? Because you are a c h e a t i n g , c o w a r d l y , s e l f i s h s h i t .”
Gone Girl (2014). Film by David Fincher, novel and screenplay by Gillian Flynn.
Tonight I’ve been followed on my way home. Just because I’m a girl, and I were alone, and it was dark (but not late, since it happened at 5pm). And a girl, alone, is weak.
I’m crying while typing because of the anxiety and the stress and the fear.
I was taking my dog for a walk. Note that he’s a 43 kg boxerdog (94 lbs). He only is 1 year old but in this year I felt more safe when walking with him than walking alone; in fact he once “attacked” a man who was trying to rob me. But he’s a dog, so he can only see if I’m screaming and shaking, and I couldn’t yell “hey attack that man” that seemed only to walk on our same street.
But this man crossed the street every time I did, and if I stopped he did too, and if I stopped for a long time he walked a bit and then after turning on himself he would stared at me. I felt brave so I firmly said “stop following me or I’m calling the cops” but he didn’t answer or moved so I panicked and called the police. The cop at the phone asked what the problem was, and I explained the situation. Do you know what he told me? “I can’t do anything, he didn’t harassed you, maybe he’s only walking through your same street”. I was so frustrated I started crying, no one else in the street apart from me, this man, and my dog who wasn’t understanding why we stopped.
I wanted to go home.
But I am a girl and I am weak and I am alone and this man has decided to not let me go.
I called my fiancé, crying and panicking. He was too far to coming rescuing me, so he suggested to knock at someone and asking for help. So I did.
And at the first door I knocked on a woman asked what was going on, seeing me so upset. She then called her husband and they went with me down the street and waited until I closed my home’s door.
Ok so everything is fine, isn’t it?
No. NO! HELL NO!!!
Is it possible? Fearing to take your dog for a walk down your street (also living in a “good” part of the city) just because you are a girl?
I’m really scared.
I think I’ll buy one of those pepper spray.
I had to write all this down because I am really upset right now.
soft and tired michael crawling into bed after tour has finished and cuddles up to your side and just basks in your presence because you haven’t seen eachother in so long and he rests his head on your tummy and tells you about all the things you’ve missed, about the fans asking about you and how he loved being on that stage every night but hated it because you weren’t there with him and he eventually falls asleep half way through this coversation after all the yawning and snuggling into you and all you can do is giggle at this giant you call your boyfriend and how cute he is