Adventures in Sexual Harassment

Hey gang. Still with me here?

Haven't posted in a long time, mostly because I thought the old "guess what I did at the gym today/new vegetable I ate" routine was getting a bit boring. Well, I have something I need to write about today. I went to bed in a rage, I woke up in a rage, and apart from the sweet relief from lifting heavy things up and putting them back down with Ms. Muscles today at lunch (sidebar: I have this vein in my right arm that bulges whenever I lift weights now, and it is TOTALLY AWESOME. Also, lifting weights while extremely angry results in having a great workout. Wide grip chin ups? Yes please! Huzzah!), I have been walking around in a rage all day. Frowny Eyebrows, Fast walking, Rageaholic Music on the ipod, the whole 9 yards. Clearly, I need to spew this out somewhere, and the interwebs is it. Since I have resigned myself to being completely unproductive today, let's do this.

As a grad student who makes 10% less money than a broken vacuum cleaner, I have picked myself up a nice part time bartending job. The job is actually pretty sweet. Easy, friendly environment, and despite outrages prices, people actually seem to tip. In the not so distant past, I have been told that I suffer from a lack of niceness. In many situations, I would agree. It's something that I sometimes think about working to remedy. However, after work yesterday, I think I may realize where my lack of 'nice' these days comes from. Actually, just kidding, I'm going to go ahead and scold myself today for being TOO nice yesterday. There's something to be said for not being particularly friendly. Why? Because it seems I got fooled by Schrodinger's Rapist.

To put the situation in a nutshell, I experienced some legitimate, textbook, sexual harassment in the workplace (at my new job, not at school). By a co-worker who is roughly old enough to by my father. [Disclaimer: I now have to admit to a horrible anti-feminist belief I used to have but have now revised (bear with me). I used to think that sexual harassment in the workplace was still 'kind of' a problem, but that it always going to be a "pretty girl" problem which I would never have to deal with, and therefore didn't have to think about. Besides which, "pretty girls" have it so easy anyway that whats the big deal for them? They have men after them all the time so what's one more? I know. HORRIBLE BELIEF SYSTEM.] Now that I am in said situation, the emotional complexities of this very real problem begin to emerge...

Ladies, you know that on a regular basis we may encounter a variety of wierdos of various ages, dispositions, and dental hygiene who may try to hassle us. These, provided their comments are not too gross, are usually disregarded with relative ease. This creepo though...this situation has been eating at me. This creepbag brought on The Rage. I have not been able to ignore it.

I do NOT expect to show up on my FIRST DAY at a new job and have to deal with this BULLSHIT.

Creepface, let's call him, has been working at this place for 17 years. He knows everybody and their mother. He seems well respected and genuinely liked by everyone at work. I was doing some on-the-job training with him yesterday. Things were going well. Friendly old dude, conversation flowing, being productive, making money. A few laughs. He finds out I used to have a really cool job. He used to be in a related field in another country. We get off work earlier than anticipated, and he says lets have a cup of tea, I want to ask you about your old job. Um...okay. I didn't really want to, but being brand new and needing to play nice at work (more friends = more shifts maybe? I really, really, really need the money), I agreed to a 1/2 hour tea break at the second cup across the street and he seemed like a good contact to have around that place. Harmless, harmless, cuppa tea.

Not quite. 5 mins (probably less) into the conversation, Creepface blurts out that what he'd really like, is to hug me and was that okay?........

I gave him a funny look and said that it wasn't. But I am truly embarrassed that in that moment my words were carefully selected to avoid hurting his feelings, and were chosen for their intent to convey that I didn't get where he was going with this. "umm...i dont know you well enough...for that....yet?". In hindsight, now would have been the right time to throw my hot tea in his face and get the fuck out. Instead, I politely declined his creepy fucking hug, and then I froze.

Being a big, strong, girl who is into martial arts, there's a pretty good chance that if push came to shove I could bring some serious pain to this scrawny old dude. But, the first rule of martial arts of any kind is don't use what you know unless you absolutely have to. A rule, I have to admit, I have disregarded on several occasions. Usually against someone bigger than me, and always while drunk. However, this time, while older, allegedly wiser, and stone cold sober, I for some reason chose to abide by this rule and extend it to my entire vocabulary when in hindsight I wish I hadn't. Or I at least wish I hadn't been so fucking nice to the pervert. Instead of ripping him a new one literally or figuratively, I politely declined a hug, and changed the topic of conversation to HIS WIFE AND KIDS hoping to subsequently slurp down my burning hot tea and get out quickly. It persisted. He loved my eyes, my lips. Was that okay? He's sorry. Thought I had a great "spirituality" (? boy was he way off...I'm an athiest). Persisted in offering me a ride home (NO). Told me how attractive he thought I was. Oops, he's sorry for being inappropriate again, he just can't help himself....

I took it all in with silence like a chump because I couldn't do anything else at the time. Ladies, you are all welcome to delude yourselves into thinking you are better women than I am because you would have done [insert really great shaming scenario here. Bonus points for witty lines.] but the truth is I felt I could do nothing in that moment, and I feel sick and powerless for it. I do not know this man. I do not know what will embarass him or make him angry and what he might do if he gets to be in either state. So I smiled. I gently indicated I was uncomfortable. I appeased his apologies. I laughed his inappropriate comments off. He told me that for him it was a "once in a lifetime" thing for him because I'm "special" and he thought he should just take the chance, you know? NO. I DO NOT KNOW. Are these supposed to be compliments? Am I supposed to feel good about this? Instead, I coyly 'heard my phone beep' and oops! I miss the gym for one night and all my training partners are wondering where I am, ha ha! I'm a competitive brazilian jiu jitsu and submission grappling fighter (ahh can you feel me stretch the truth...) , cool huh? I train, like, every day (biiiiggg stretch...) , ha ha! Oh look at the time...gotta run!

You might think you are welcome to accuse me of being naive/dumb/bringing this on myself for going for a cup of tea with him in the first place but you are wrong. Sure, maybe if he had been wearing a sandwich sign that said "hello, my name is RAPIST", but he appeared for all intents and purposes to be a kindly older man who was interested in my line of work and might be a valuable ally to make at my new workplace where I clearly know no one else. You might also accuse me of blowing this out of proportion. But the point is, it's not fair that women should have to roam around in constant suspicion of every kind gesture for fear of being made to look like the whole thing was our fault if things go awry. It's not fair that I should feel the implication hanging in the air that because he bought me a cup of tea and a biscotti (maple biscotti from second cup. I recommend.) and told me I was pretty that I'm supposed to go and fuck him now. It's not fair that I have to debate whether I should report this at work. IT WAS MY FIRST DAY. He's been there for 17 years. Who are they going to believe? It's not fair that I have to debate in my head whether this incident is "bad enough" to report. I don't even know who I would report it to. It's not fair that someone meets me and pretends to be interested in my intellect and accomplishments when it's all just a big cover. The dimension of it happening AT WORK, a place I need to go in order to make money to feed myself adds a whole myriad of levels of creepiness that I can't begin to tease apart.

And that is why I am in a rage today. Schrodinger's Rapist gave me rabies.

Food Torture.

I read this quote supposedly said by Eva Longoria in the wake of her divorce from sports star whatshisface:

"I remember after my divorce, I was so thin and everyone kept saying how great I looked. It was probably the most unhealthy place I've ever been," she said. "So it was funny what people would see as 'healthy.' In my worst time, people were saying I've never looked better."

There's something witty and profound to say about our culture there somewhere, but I think I'll leave it alone for now. You know where I'm going with this.

It's kinda true, no? Not only about how people said she looked fantastic when she was wasting away, which they did, but in the aftermath of emotional turmoil, isn't the very thought of eating properly and caring for ourselves impossible? At least it is for me. This weekend, instead of celebrating the end of what was a fantastic globe-trotting year and welcoming in a new one full of excitement, I spent almost all of it punishing myself with the most accessible instrument of torture available to me: fooooood. But unlike dear Eva there, my particular brand of self-torture with food doesn't involve not eating it.

To say that last week didn't result in emotional hell would be an understatement. In a fit of Christmas Cheer, I decided contacting ex-boyfriend to see if we could just put this mess behind us and be friends was a good idea. Unfortunately, "let's be friends" translated very badly, even though the only language either of us know is english, and my little attempt did nothing less than blow up in my face like one of those can 'o worms, except the worms were lit on fire and covered in excrement.

I won't give you the play by play of the carnage, but after some of the shrapnel had died down I spent a solid 3 days becoming 'one with the couch' in front of the TV at my parent's house (did you know pop up video is back?!), and shoving garbage in my face. Ice cream - that's breakfast right? chips and dip? dinner of champions!! deep fried anything? GGGGIIIMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. ugh...mix that with some "it's 5 o'clock somewhere" booze time, and a little smattering of sleeping pill induced excessive sleep (i'm a pharmacologist! I'm experimenting!) and you have........... one complete mess of a person.

ANYWAYS...moving on. re-group is happening. enough of that shit. self-torture phase is over.... I promise now I will only torture myself with good things, like front squats.

Which I did already today *pats self on back*. I dug out an old workout from Ms. Muscles in the bottom of my gym bag and went to town on my quads. I tired pretty quickly, probably because I've filled my gas tank with nothing but sewage, but I front squatted anyway. While I realize the mirrors are there for a functional purpose, I sort of wish they werent there most of the time. No one looks good making their "one more rep" face...it's like, extreme constipation face.

In OTHER news (of the good kind), I caught up with an old friend who now lives in South Korea but was home for the holidays. She was regaling me with stories of cultural differences and general life in Korea. We went for mexican food, and almost went out for new year's (yes, I was going to drag my ass off the couch, I was looking forward to it actually, but then I couldn't get back downtown to party hardy :( ) It was great, and I look forward to having her back in Canada!

There was more I was going to write here, but I'll be damned if I can remember it now.

Hope you are having a lovely day wherever you are.

xo