The black-haired, brown-eyed idiot that knows no boundaries

I've written a couple of blogs about this subject before, and sometimes deleted them shortly after, but I couldn't let this one slide... I've been feeling angry and afraid ever since it happened and I had to write away these feelings.

For my English class we have to write a blog once every two weeks and twice now I changed my usual subject (discussing strangers and putting a soundtrack to that) to write about the harassments I've been dealing with.

You can find my first blog about it here: Someone's Little Girl

And I'll post the other one below... but before you do, please understand that I've been dealing with this ever since I was thirteen years old... and even now, at the age of 18, it still hurts me terribly. I cry about it still, I feel unsafe about it still and I feel dirty about it still. For the first time ever someone stepped in during the situation sketched below... I thanked the man but he will never know how grateful I am.
That, however, doesn't take away the fact that I am now afraid to have to sit alone on the train... or even be outside on my own after dark. I am afraid and it's not okay!

Although I usually write about people I never have had a conversation with, this one will be a bit different again and I won’t be adding songs.

Here’s a blog about the man that reeked of sweat, cigarettes and alcohol. That was still wearing his try-too-hard-to-be-fancy suit from last night and clearly hadn’t had a place to sleep. A blog about the black-haired, brown-eyed idiot that knows no boundaries.

I can surely say that if I ever were to assault another human being, he would most likely be it. And believe me, I’m a firm believer of “violence is not the answer” but I also believe that I shouldn’t feel weak because of someone else’s behavior towards me.

Now let me explain the story…
I had just stepped on a train in Bruges, getting ready for the last twelve minutes of a long train ride when suddenly a man sat across from me. There was something about the exaggerated way he took a seat that caught my attention and got me a little worried but I figured if I kept busy he wouldn’t bother with me.

I was wrong.

As I sat, music deafening me from the outside world for the most part and only focusing on the game I was playing on my phone (Connect Dots, a very fun and colorful game), I heard a voice belonging to the man across from me.

I thought he might need a pen or something, so I took one earbud out to listen to his question. In return he grinned and mumbled something so I rolled my eyes and went back to minding my own business.

But the stranger didn’t take this as a ‘no’. Instead he kept trying to get my attention, calling out louder and louder to me. When I continued to ignore all of his efforts he started tapping his fingers on the table, occasionally waving his hand to grasp my attention. Ignoring all of these effort for about five minutes didn’t get me anywhere because he then decided to start kicking at my feet, which I, again, wisely ignored.

After another two minutes of kicking my feet, trying to speak to me and waving his hand in front of me the bastard had had enough. He decided it was his place to grab my hand and I’ll never forget how disgusting it felt, the warmth of him pulling my hand away from my phone.

At that point I angrily took out my music and asked him what he wanted, I immediately felt tension rise on the train but no one stepped in. “You have to talk me. You have to.” He said, causing me to nearly burst with anger… but having dealt with this harassment for five years, I thought I knew how to respond properly.

“No. I don’t want to talk to you. I’m minding my own business. I want you to leave me alone. I am busy.” I told him, trying my hardest not to show my fear and vulnerability. But he just laughed and continued what he did.

It is then, that for the first time in five years of harassment someone stepped in. Not the girl sitting in the booth next to me, she just stared and let it all happen… but the adult man who had been looking at us the whole time, he looked about forty and I assume he had at least one daughter, because he quickly motioned me over to his booth.

Then when we arrived in Ostend, the idiot waited for me to pack up all my stuff… stood closely near me as we waited for the train to come to a halt. Luckily the man was once again ready to protect me, he stood in between me and the guy to make sure he couldn’t grab a hold of me.

When I stepped off the train my mom was already waiting but still the elder man kept a close and protective eye on me… and it’s a good thing he did because even with my mother by my side the idiot was lingering behind me… going at a slower pace than me and my mom.

Why can’t “no” mean “no”? And why do I have to feel unsafe for someone else’s pleasure? Who is he to say my life is worth less than his?
And just in case anyone would dare to think I asked for this by ‘dressing provocatively’ or anything like that… I was wearing a pair of jeans and a wintercoat… but even if I was dressed in anything less that still doesn’t mean I want people to treat me this way.
January 7th, 2014 at 10:55am