The Past Comes to Slap Me in the Face

I had a lovely date today with the Latina. We had lunch then knitted and crocheted and talked. We seem to really click and have a lot of the same philosophies. Things were going great. Then we got on the subject of sex parties, and she mentions one she’s just started going to in a particular part of the city. Oh no. I said, I hope it’s not the same party in that area that I used to go to. She named the host and I blurted out, “He assaulted me.” I explained to her what happened, and how she really needs to be careful going to those particular parties (I don’t want her to go quite frankly, but it’s not my place to tell her how to live her life). She seemed to take the situation very seriously and understood my professed anger at the perpetrator.

But still, a dark cloud settled over me. Why the fuck can’t this man stop fucking up and affecting my life? And an irrational (semi-irrational) fear settled over me – what if she doesn’t believe me? Now all signs point to the fact that she did, but after having everyone at those parties want to minimize and make excuses for what happened to me, I’m understandably panicked that that might happen again. I dealt with a bunch of people who didn’t want to make waves and possibly get themselves uninvited to a sex party, and therefore they tried to talk themselves and me out of looking at what happened. I really wish just one person would have spoken up and said that what he did was wrong. I also really wish he could have just taken responsibility for his actions and apologized, instead of going on about how it was just an “accident.” When he chose to keep hurting me after I asked him to stop, it became a matter of personal responsibility. And I’m angry that he didn’t take responsibility for it. Hell, I’m angry at what he did. I’m just really fucking angry.

I’ve emailed the Latina to ask her not to mention me to this guy, or anyone else at the parties. I don’t want to have any contact with him, no matter how indirect. I hope I never have to hear his name ever again. I also fear that her association with me could cause him to do her harm as well.

I’m frustrated that today could have been all good – after all, she gave me a couple of lovely kisses as we said goodbye – but instead has left me an upset mess. Shortly after getting home I told Davey all about it and cried.