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Marginalize Abusers

On Friday, I went to a fun dance party that I had never been to before. About halfway into the night, I noticed that this person I have no good feelings for was present and I was pretty upset. Mostly because it was the first time we’d run into each other since then and I just didn’t have some kind of pre-planned emotional reaction.  In that moment, the few people I knew were elsewhere and I was just dancing on my own and basically my whole body turned to *GROAN*.

And I had had some drinks and I was just… unhappy. And I found my date and gave him a brief go-over. He was sweet and asked if I wanted to leave but I said I was fine and I had another drink and just kept a buffer.

But, as the night wore on and I found myself being preoccupied with NOT having fun I started to think more about it like this: Fuck that dude. If either of us is going to feel uncomfortable in a place we are both occupying, it sure as fuck is not going to be ME.

Seriously.

And I totally appreciate the support of maybe I’d want to leave, but that’s just not how I roll. I want to live in a culture where people who violate consent are the ones who feel awful and awkward and marginalized.

On this day:

In 2008 – I was in Italy
In 2007 – I lost my title of Foosball champion
In 2006 – My dead-dad’s website


Continuous Consent

{EDIT}I had originally posted this as a protected entry because I was worried about how it would make the other person involved feel. I have removed any indication of the person’s name and I feel that it’s fair of me to openly discuss the happenings of my life. 

 

Last night I had a 2nd date with someone that I thought was pretty cool. But I know myself and our date time was after sunset so I had Gen promise to come out of the house with me beforehand so I wouldn’t cancel in favour of being in my pj’s looking at porn on Tumblr.

She and I went to Raw Sugar and it ended up being Beats and Boards and the music was so good that I was chair dancing, and I had a beer, and a whoopie pie, and a boozy hot chocolate. Then my date arrived and the three of us had an enjoyable time chatting and being silly and being serious. Then we all left and Gen went home and I went to his place.

We went to his place and had some fun sex. It was fun because we were laughing and joking around pretty much throughout everything.  At the start we had a talk about our respective safe sex practices, sexual boundaries that are non-negotiable and things that are stuff that can happen later down the road, so that was good to set the tone and feel safe within the limits.
At the end he asked me how I rationalized him coming in me (because I had previously stated that a penis in my vagina MUST have a condom on it and that I do not want any semen in my body) and WHAT THE FUCK? Turns out, near the end, he took off the condom (without me noticing) and we did some other stuff and then had sex again and he came. I had not at all realized he had taken it off and he did not say anything about it until after.

I immediately got dressed and went home and got in the shower and washed myself out as best I could and cried and cried while Shawn was just with me in the bathroom, being an awesome partner.

This morning I got a text message from the date:

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UGH

 

Like, it’s so fucking easy to just be all “whoops” when you are not the one who has to deal with any of the possible repercussions. FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

Actually NO. NOBODY FUCK YOU.

This is a feminist/consent-preaching guy.

He was SO SORRY about it and HE WAS FEELING BAD but started off with “I had a fun time! Thanks!” and not something like “Wow I feel really awful about what happened last night. How are you feeling?” etc.

GAHHHHHHHHHH

On this day:

in 2010 – bitching for the cure
in 2009 – sometimes I bite my nails but WAY WAY less now that I’m not constantly stressed out
in 2008 – tomato leg!
in 2007 – genital tricks
in 2005 – I really miss this Pilates class. It was awesome


Post-abortion recovery room.

I’m just going to go right ahead and copy/paste this from the description of Obvious Child on The Mayfair Theatre‘s website:

Not so many administrations ago, “Fast Times at Ridgemont High” and “Dirty Dancing” and a handful of other films dared to deal with abortion, off-camera and usually a little off the main plotline, as a medical option chosen by a sympathetic young woman dictated by the machinations of the screenplay, usually with the help of sperm donated by a dislikable supporting character.

Then, gradually and then almost entirely, nobody on screen had them anymore. “Juno,” “Knocked Up” and so many others took a pregnancy to term without many second thoughts, ushering in a narrower set of options. Few, if any, films of any size risked losing half or more of its collective audience (the divides falling along political rather than gender lines) by treating a woman’s right to choose as an acceptable storytelling decision.

In the last couple of decades, we’ve seen more portrayals of audience-friendly serial killers on TV and in the movies than we have of major female characters who terminate an unwanted pregnancy without being overtly punished or covertly marginalized (the gynecological history of Sandra Oh’s character on “Grey’s Anatomy” notwithstanding).

When I saw that this was playing at an independent theatre I could get to without driving, on a day that I didn’t have the kids and no other plans I shouted LET ME GIVE YOU ALL MY MONEY because really now. Abortions are a fact of life for many women/people with ovaries and a uterus and goodness I love a film that makes one reflect upon the human experience and you know, I guess most movies just forget that women are humans.

ANYWAY… Robyn and I went to see the movie and some things I read about it is that it is a comedy but it’s not really all that funny (but I am not the hugest comedy fan since I find so much of it to be oppressive – oh how I love accidental injury comedy though) and it even isn’t THAT compelling of a story. It’s basically just a regular life story of a woman who has an abortion for reasons. Her reasons. And that was great. Oh can I give that movie all my money again? Ok, ok I will!

The part that I liked the most was the scene where the lead character has just had an abortion and is chilling in the recovery room with all these other women who are there for the same thing. I had both of my abortions in a hospital setting and it’s done on a specific day of the week so all the abortions for that week happen on that day and everyone is there for the same thing but everyone is just kind of quiet.

It’s a kind of silent solidarity. A reverent moment. A safe space.

 

On this day:

In 2009 – the games bus drivers play
In 2007 – 6 years of no dentist = lots of work on my teeth
In 2006 – My recap and thoughts on my marriage preparation class as provided by The Roman Catholic Church
In 2005 – A photo of me eating a hotdog


Friday Feminism Truth-Bomb

Last night I was thinking about how I used to make 10 layer lasagna from scratch. And Bread. And granola bars. And crackers and basically everything I ate and fed my family for 3 meals a day – pretty much every day.

I was thinking about how there are certain meals I miss eating and jeez-oh-why was I no longer making them? BECAUSE THEY TAKE ALL DAMN DAY. Which was fine when I was living a life in the middle of nowhere, with nothing nearby to do, and with a partner who was not interested in doing anything to help me pursue any of my interests or maintain relationships with friends and family (other than THEIR friends and family). In that particular case, it was very easy for me to do domestic labour all the time. It was the only thing that wasn’t met with any resistance.

But now there are about 1000 other things that take up my time and energize my soul and when I balance any of those things against staying in all day to make home made ravioli with a variety of fillings, well, the time-intensive home cooking very rarely wins out.

So then I was thinking about how I can integrate my desire for yummy long-prep foods with the fact that I have a fucking enriching life and there are some good gems in there.

1-Get the whole household on-board with sharing the labour (this is mostly in full-effect at the dear old Foxhole)
2-Make it a social event! Last winter, I hosted a Pot-Pie making party and it was a big success and everyone got to go home with some great home-made food after having shared in the work to make it and having had a nice meal together. I will need to do this again!
3-figure out how to cut corners. This can mean making bigger batches of time-intensive things and freezing some of it. Our freezer is pretty small and pretty full though. I need to give this item more thought.

Anyways, fuck the patriarchy and fuck domestic labour as a tool of oppression.

On this day:

in 2013 – I guerilla-planted some tomatoes. It was really fun and I actually want to do more to get edible plants just growing all over my neighbourhood
in 2012 – Turns out, I was pregnant after all. I had an abortion and I probably blogged about that in detail shortly after.
in 2008 – honestly, Guitar Hero makes me want to vomit. I have such a negative association with it, it’s UNREAL
in 2007 – sexism in sports SO SURPRISING
in 2006 – a recipe!!!