I’ve been physically assaulted by a couple women. Never hit back though, didn’t feel the need to. I felt I could ‘handle’ the situation. Even when a knife was pulled on me… didn’t flinch (well that’s not entirely true, I did turn sideways slightly, to shield the vitals). I wonder if I thought this volatility was a worth-it price for a strong-willed, sexually aggressive, velveteen-pussied woman. Also, maybe there was a virtual-reality-horror-game excitement to the dysfunction that thrilled me. ‘Virtual’ in the sense that the level of danger was under my control; as I said above, I knew I could ‘handle’ whatever plucky situation that arose. The fear was never ‘real.’ Actually, let me take that back. There was one VERY real fear and that was the fear of losing them to someone else which tended to, ironically, be the impetus behind the arguments that led to the open hand slaps and steak knife brandishing (I would make machine-gun accusations replete with the most DEVASTATING insults; classic mental abuse shit1). Hmmmmmm….
Unpopular opinion: I think there are women who know how to ‘handle’ comparable situations. Not saying it is right (frankly it SHOULD never happen), but I think there are some women who aren’t as afraid of the threat of physical violence as is commonly thought. Now because this is the internet and Knee Jerks abound I have to say: I am NOT, hold on, I mean NNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOTTTTTTTTTTTTTT condoning physical violence against anyone; man, woman, child or Canadian. I’m just saying there are layers to this shit. I’m talkin’ layers that if peeled back would reveal violent (both physically and mentally) men and women who were REFORMED by the love of their mates in a “Hittin’ me is some bitch shit. Let me see if you can deal with those unresolved issues; show some REAL strength muthafucka. Here, I’ll help you.” kinda way.
1. That passive aggressive shit; a skill I honed through several years of laying deadpanned, soul-crushing double entendres on women and then shrugging faux incredulously when they protested while saying shit like, “Why’re you trippin?’ I didn’t say THAT. Don’t put words in my mouth babe. It’s unnecessary anyway. The liquor I’m gonna drink later tonight—just to be able to enjoy my own company—is gonna do that. And the shit’s gonna come out a LOT more fucked up than what YOU’RE insinuatin.'”
Jokes aside, I was arrested for domestic abuse. I didn’t hit my victim. Just scared her enough to think I was gonna do something far worse. In other words: I need to stop trying to protect myself by saying ‘I didn’t hit her.’
Jokes back in the forefront…
These ‘Ike’ memes have the same effect on me that a good blues song does. I ‘understand’ them on a visceral level given the fact that I’ve done some heinous-ass emotionally abusive shit in my past (love that I can say ‘in my past’*). But at the same time I find them ‘funny’ because via their absurdity they expose the insecurity and just utter self-destroying, hyper-narcissistic bullshit that drives such abusively controlling personalities.
* Most of the time this is the only solace I have. But really, it’s not all that bad considering that if I can ‘keep’ the bullshit in my past then everything should be ‘relatively’ cool. And what I’m finding out is the more open I’m about it—in a not-trying-to-make-excuses-for-it kinda way—the easier attaining such a ‘relative peace‘ becomes. I’m able to ‘laugh’ at—not ‘it’—but myself in a “How could I have EVER been such a ‘joke?'” kinda way.↩