Short recollections of choices I wish I hadn’t made:
- 16. The Therapist, who knew my last name and address, who agreed to take my picture then became indignant when I wouldn’t send it to him, who joked that he would come over and take advantage of me, whose eyes betrayed the truth that he was capable of doing just that, whose invitations I consistently and gently deflected until he tired of me so that I never had to find out whether to believe his eyes or his words.
- 17. The Fling, a vacation hookup, who I’d have been content to never hear from again, yet who texted me within a few days to ask for a favor as though we were friends. Then came five months of silence, eventually broken by a request for pictures and videos of me with other men and the accompanying displeasure that seems to always come when certain men hear the word “no.”
- 18. The Narcissist, a brief date followed by an excessively brief tryst. His sexual dominance was exciting until it became apparent that it wasn’t paired with compassion. To him, I was an implement, a receptacle, a means to an end, and beyond that, a nuisance. He walked me impatiently to my car, wrapped his long pale fingers around my neck, and kissed me roughly before turning on his heel — my soul screamed to be seen, and my body pulsed with dissatisfaction.