Tag: coercion

  • school-girl fantasies

    Let’s talk about school-girl fantasies.

    It’s a tired trope, isn’t it? I mean, isn’t it the most tired, boring stereotype that a lot of men fantasize about being with a school-girl in the bedroom?

    Apparently it is something alive and well, nonetheless.

    And it never, ever occurred to me, though I suppose it should have, that I have, for the entirety of my adult life, been the object of that precise fantasy. A fantasy that did actually play out in real life 27-22 years ago. 

    The realization hit me like a mild ton of bricks a couple of weeks ago. 

    It’s so boring though, isn’t it? 

    I’m going to talk about something personal here— I mean, we don’t need fantasies or games or role playing fantasies in my marriage. Just saying. That bond is just that intense, that real for us. 

    So when, recently, the person I talked about in my last post suggested that I should perhaps “dress up as a school-girl,” for my husband…. I remained silent, as I recall, and said no, when he asked if I ever do that. 

    Because I don’t. The honest truth is, I absolutely 100% do not have to. 

    Of course, it was none of his business, but that was beside the point. I knew that too, and I know harassment when I see it. I may not have known it 27 years ago at 18 years old, but at 46 years old I 100% do now.

    And I recently have actually started wearing my hair in pigtails, actually, at 46 years old.

    And I realize I do look slightly younger than my age anyway.

    And I realize too that even though the pigtails are legitimately the best way (and most comfortable way)  to put my hair up at its current length:

    I am aware of the stereotype that hairstyle, especially at my age, feeds into. 

    sigh

    Except when I was an actual college student, I ignored the possibility that I was being objectified.

    I was so desperate for positive male attention. I was so very desperate to escape the emotionally manipulative relationship I had been in for so many years at that time that, to be honest: my standards were not high. I was attracted to what I read as confidence at the time, that I so clearly see now was exhibitionist narcissism. 

    And that’s the honest truth of how I let myself become objectified for so many years: I wanted to only be with one person sexually forever, and it happens that something unfortunate happened and I latched onto someone who objectified me. 

    And it’s true that that happened to me at age 19 while I was in the midst of a psychotic episode. 

    And for years, after I realized the truth of that situation in 2010, I really and truly thought I was the defective one.

    But that is clearly not the case, in so many ways.

    I was ill but I was in no way defective. 

    My character was not defective. Still isn’t. 

    Except now I am 46 years old. And I pay close attention to what happens around me. Especially when intimate details regarding my marriage are questioned, except it’s funny because actually, my particular husband would 100% find that particular old school-girl trope completely repulsive. 

    Because he has no perverted tendencies at all; my Jared is the real deal for sure. 

    And, you know what? I didn’t actually wear my hair in pigtails when I was in high school or college. I was much more likely to go for a french braid. 

    So, I am going to wear my pigtails, at age 46.

    And I am going to hold my head high, knowing that I stuck up for that college-aged version of myself that didn’t know she needed to be protected. 

    And I am going to write my stories, and I am going to continue to get stronger and stronger. Because I am no longer afraid; I realize I was never the one that was defective; and I am on a rampage of telling my truth. 

  • november 12, 1998

    Today is a trauma anniversary from 1998.

    November 12, 1998 was a beautiful day today, just like today, November 12, 2025. It was cooler that morning though, as I recall. 

    I took the photo above, of the railroad tracks, in that morning sunlight on November 12, 1998. 

    And I wrote the following on October 30, 2025, in correspondence with the perpetrator from that day, edited for my own protection: 

    “This will seem out of the blue for you. It is not for me.

    There will be no absolution, no forgiveness. I never actually responded directly to your statements last December imploring me multiple times desperately to “not be mad at you for the things you did.” I simply wanted to see if I was strong enough to face you last December. And then I did the thing I always do in the aftermath: I retreated into myself, doubting myself, deferring to you all these months after. 

    The truth is, it is my literal cross to bear that my beloved alma mater continues to “honor” someone who never probably should have graduated from its halls 25 years ago. 

    It has been my weakness, my own fragile mental illness so very well-documented at this point, that has led me to, time and again, try to befriend you.

    Your character is irredeemable, apparently. Not one thing has changed in 27 years.

    There weren’t mixed signals, as you said, on Monday the 20th. The truth is, you can’t read me anymore because I’m stronger than you. The trauma bond is broken, thank God.

    Goodbye,_____.”

    Today is that person’s birthday. He committed a trauma so vile that I won’t write it here. 

    And I withdrew with hardship due to my psychosis less than a month later, and managed to get that withdrawal the week of finals. 

    And my psychiatrist of the time who documented all then, was astounded to hear the complete story when I went back to him in 2022, about how it all played out. He said then that so much more made sense about that time, to hear what I had to say. 

    And last December that same perpetrator, when I wanted to see if I could face him, committed an equally vile trauma, I believe on purpose.

    In both cases, Jared says he is an opportunist.

    And on October 20, 2025, that person made professional missteps that really kind of shocked me, except that I knew even in the moment that he was making a severely miscalculated power play. 

    And that day, too, unprompted, he went on and on about how his program at our school was the most stressful time of his life. As if it was some sort of excuse for his behavior back in the day. 

    I wrote the following on Facebook earlier in the day today, with links to a song from Elton John’s “Love Songs” album and the “Sleepless in Seattle” soundtrack. These were the soundtracks that he played over and over in 1999 and 2000, repeat ad nauseum, as a grooming tactic. 

    “A couple of odes to my 19 year old self who could not defend herself, and also that 19-23 year old self who tried time and again to walk away, and finally did at age 23. These songs do not mean to me what the lyrics would indicate. 

    The first time I wrote this draft I ended the above paragraph with “Maybe someday I will talk about it.”

    Suffice it to say for now that groomers are very smart, and choose their soundtracks very, very very carefully, and repetitively. I cannot listen to these songs (or the soundtracks they are on) for the rest of my life without ever thinking about one specific person.”

    And today November 12, 2025, has been a beautiful day. I got to see my very nice orthopedic PA about my scoliosis, and I got to drive through my very favorite parts of Atlanta, that city I love.

    And it occurred to me, that finally Atlanta is, for me, not the scene of sadness and trauma and despair.

    Atlanta is my city, not his; Atlanta has meant what it means to my family for generations, not his. Atlanta– my very own alma mater– is mine, not his. It is my family that began a relationship with characters from that alma mater probably the decade he was born.

    That man has no claim to anything he can’t buy. He knows nothing of love, of loyalty, of kindness, of simply doing the right thing.

    I’m ready to talk about it.