RELATIVES, See TITLE.
In general, I don’t do confrontation well. I tend to shake in the midst of debates, especially those with people I care about. I always end up crying when my boyfriend and I fight.
Specific instances though, when I can let a blind rage pour out of my mouth and body…. that is one intense type of a drug let me tell YOU.
Scene: The Old Broadway, the only place to dance to :The Hits of Today” in North Fargo. And I am dancing my FACE OFF.
Jerk grabs my butt and I straight-up see him do it, just reach out like he owns me, the dancefloor’s freaking empty.
I walk up to him, pinch him HARD in the belly (really let those nails dig in). And start the tirade, devoid of fear, filled with the rage of the goddess…
“MY BODY. MINE, ASSHOLE. I will CUT OFF YOUR DICK. You CANNOT DO THAT, my dad is a COP” (not sure why I said that, but whatever).
Then I rage-danced for a little while, punctuating any eye contact with pantomiming my fingers as scissors and repeating my manhood mutilating threat. Next time I’ll make my eyes go all crazy and say “I’VE DONE IT BEFORE”.
Eventually he tried to say it was an accident after which I swore at him some more and he actually left the dance floor out of shame or awkwardness, who knows.
Felt so good, never had a high like that. There has been so much rage building up in me for men that think they own me, own woman in general, and can do whatever they want to us. Sometimes I forget about them, because I have such good men in my own life for friends, family, and of course boyfriend. But the OB always makes me remember.
I can go into this blind rage for racism and homophobia too, so nice to know I’m not limited.