Category Archives: glenn

FML

My week has been shit, yet again.  I came to the realization that my most recent ex didn’t just “forget” my boundries; he didn’t “accidently” trigger me.  It seems small, but the difference between thinking david was just a careless asshole, and him purposely crossing my boundries to make the sex into rape— because thats what he got off on— is unspeakable.

As if that weren’t enough, my lover saw glenn looking for me in Latin Club. I haven’t peep from him for two years.  Why now?  If I run into him, will he start stalking me again?  Did he just want to fuck with me a little bit while he was in town, or did he come for the sole purpose of freaking me out?    I thought he had just found someone else to rape/stalk/creep out by now, but apparently I’m still a target.  I almost went to Latin Club that day.   The only reason I didn’t was because I couldn’t get a ride.    It was so fucking close.

Latin club was the one place I had friends who didn’t side with any of my rapists, where I could actually relax and have fun.  And now, it’s gone.  Whether or not he’s actually dangerous, as in he might hurt me again, I have no idea.  But I know that just seeing him would cause me to have a meltdown.   Best case scenario, I would just become more  numb and dysfunctional for a while, worst-case scenario, I would do everything in my power to kill him and beat the living shit out of him.  Although him dying is the best result to me, if I want to get anything done politically (which is still a consideration of mine), being a “crazy bitch” would permanently kill that possibility.

Fuck I am incoherent as all hell.  I feel useless and pretty guilty for trying to just relax and avoid anything  related to rape and abuse, which obviously limits my ability to read and write radical feminist shit.  So I’m replaying Persona 4, because it takes my mind off of reality and the characters (and the pairings of them I love) give me warm fuzzy feelings.

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I can’t believe I forgot this.

But I still wish I hadn’t remembered.  I really don’t know what to do about this.  I haven’t been this dissociated for so long.  I was having such a good week, why did this memory have to come now?

I can’t remember how it came up, no matter how hard I push or how much I want to.   I remember who was involved.   Glenn was, of course.  The record store owner who checked me out and made passes at me whenever I’d visit the store with glenn.  Did glenn offer the owner the pictures of me?  Or was it that the owner suggested he exchange them for albums and discounts?

I know glenn had showed at least one picture of me to a friend without asking, and this was before we had broken up and during a honeymoon phase of the abuse cycle.  So after I left him, what would he have done with them?  Everytime I thought about it, I kept thinking he was too cowardly to risk posting them on the internet, that he would be too afraid of getting in trouble for having child pornography.  But giving them to one guy isn’t that risky.   Hell, giving it to a few isn’t.  People do it all the time.  He probably told the owner the same thing he told his friends: I dumped him for some other man; that the bitch (me) had planned to leave him all along.

If he showed one friend, why not the others?  He had already told them all about how he fucked me.  How I liked being spanked, choked, degraded and dressed up in whatever pornified outfit he wished.  So they gave him “toys” to help him out.  Ropes and a paddle that had holes in it, so the air wouldn’t slow down the speed of his swing.  I remember them talking about how lucky he was to have a nympho for a girlfriend.  I was his slut, and he bragged about it.  Why wouldn’t he show off the pictures of me he took?

I know he was angry when I broke up with him.  He stalked me for weeks, so there’s no way I couldn’t notice that.  Would he do that, though?  Put them on the internet?   Would his friends put it on the internet, or put him up to it?

No one believed the sex was really rape.  In the pictures, I smiled for him, posed in whatever obscene position he wanted me in.  No one would think I was being abused.  I was fooling myself.  He would distribute them, at least to his friends.  Of course he would.  He probably had even before I left him.  He’d definitely share them if it got him his music cheaper.

How am I supposed to get through the day knowing this?  For all I know, some dude could be on an amateur porn site, wacking off to the pictures of me degrading myself right now, thinking about what a slut I am.  Glenn himself could still be getting off on the pictures.  His friends could be with him, laughing together and bonding over a female body on display as men always do.

I still feel like it’s my fault.  Most feminists would call it consensual.  I still remember a discussion on feministing, where a woman had reported a gang rape, and a video was later put on the internet.  The video “proved” it was consensual-not just to the cops, but to the “feminist” commenters.  It clearly wasn’t rape.  She was lying, they said, cause she didn’t want to look like a slut or get in trouble for cheating on her boyfriend.  My smiles would prove I consented.

I cried when I read those comments months ago, but somehow I can’t bring myself to cry now.  My thoughts are all disjointed and I can’t even write a coherent paragraph.  Or, at least, they’re more incoherent than usual.   Happy summer break for me.