So I guess this is one of those posts that I’d promised I’d post someday and then I didn’t and then something happened and the post ended up being something it wasn’t supposed to be.
I am not here to share a funny story as I often do. I’m here to vent.
I know the chances of anyone actually reading this are very slim, but that comforts me. This is not here for the benefit other people. This is here because there were words in my head that needed to not be in my head. At least for a little while.
So if you’re here, for any reason, looking for a funny story… don’t read this.
So, I guess this is where it starts.
We were having a family celebration, someone’s birthday. We often have those. As I’ve mentioned before, we’re a family that’s very into partying.
Another thing that we are is: drinkers and chauvinists.
We’re from the country side!
Don’t get me wrong. I love my family. But it is possible to love someone and not like them.
I love my family, but some of the time I don’t like them very much.
Or at all.
What happened this time is that we were all having fun, and there is this one uncle that I don’t really like. I don’t have to like him, or love him (I don’t) because I am not bound to him in the way I am bound to others.
This person, let’s call him Dean, is married to one of my aunts. He is an asshole, sometimes he is a funny asshole, and sometimes he is an obnoxious asshole.
So, this guy was drinking just as much as the rest of the family was (I wasn’t drinking because I don’t like wine nor beer, so I was just sipping my glass of soda and eating cake (because birthday, duh)) and he kept it up even after almost everyone else (including his wife) went to bed.
Now, a bit of back story to understand what is about to happen: This person and I don’t get along very well. My mother says that it’s because we’re both Taurus and have similar temperaments. I think it’s because he’s an asshole who thinks he can get away with every shitty comment he makes as long as he frames it as a joke.
He has made jokes about:
- Me getting raped in Santiago, to the point that every time we saw each other he asked me “How’s the rapist?”
- Me looking like one of the Karadima victims when I bleached my hair.
- People getting turned gay through trauma and abuse.
- My sexuality.
- Me being “a gay man.”
- My looks.
- The way I dress.
- The things I like.
- Pretty much everything about me.
And I’ve let it slide because there is really nothing you can do when your family thinks it’s hilarious and you’re just over reacting.
So I’ve dealt with this gross behavior for a while. I’ve sometimes talked back to him, and sometimes just walked away.
(There’s the common belief that when I walk away from someone talking shit in my family’s house it’s because I’m acting like a child, or angry. Fun fact: I run away because I don’t like people seeing me cry or self harm.)
By this point (the party) I was already mad at this person because of all the sex and rape jokes he had made about me and other people, so I wasn’t really talking to him.
I went to bed early that night because I wasn’t into the celebration and had already eaten. I went to the kitchen (where things were happening) to get a glass of water for an inebriated aunt, and some other people (my mom, two aunts and my grandmother) were trying to convince this person of going to bed.
I ignored them and went to get the glass of water.
When I was leaving the kitchen my mother told me to, “tell him to go to bed. You’re the same, so he’ll only listen to you.”
I told Dean to go to bed or his wife was going to be mad at him. He grumbled but said nothing. After this I went back to my other aunt, gave her the water and then went back to the kitchen to return the glass.
Dean had still not gone to bed and my mom asked me to send him to bed again, so I did.
This time he lifted his head and looked at me. I had picked up a plastic card from the table and he started saying that I was nosy. I ignored him and then he fucking bit my hand.
After that I told him again to go to bed, “don’t be ridiculous and go to bed.”
We argued for a while, because he was drunk as shit, and then it happened, the thing that made me just snap.
He looked me straight in the eye and started telling me how ugly I am, how ugly I looked.
I said I didn’t care, because to be honest I don’t. It’s my body and my hair and my face, and I never pay much attention to what he said.
Then he carried on saying that I was ugly, that I looked like a man, and that I was so ugly he wouldn’t fuck me.
That’s when the world screeched to a halt around me.
“Excuse me?!” I yelled. But he didn’t even flinched, he kept saying it again and again how he wouldn’t fuck me.
And like…. There were three women there with me. Three people. My fucking mother. And no one said anything.
No one cared that this 40 something year old man who is my uncle told me that.
That is so fucking wrong.
What was he planning to achieve by saying that? Did he think I’d feel insulted that his dick wouldn’t come anywhere near by body? That I was supposed to want to get fucked by him?
In what universe is it okay to say that to your niece?
I was so mad at him, at my mom and my aunts and grandmother that I just left. Like a child, my mother would say.
I went and locked myself in the bathroom and I thought about the kind of society we live in, the kind of family we have, the kind of person this man is. And I felt so dirty and humiliated, that someone from my family could say that and no one defended me, no one told him it wasn’t okay.
I cried, and yes, I self-harmed because that’s how I deal with shit.
It’s not okay, and it’s not perfect, but it’s all I’ve got when shit is just too much.
I was just so mad that those words could be said to me.
I don’t care that that disgusting asshole wouldn’t “fuck me”, I don’t want him anywhere near me. I’m upset because men think it is okay to say that, to use that against us, that they are so desirable that the worst thing they can say is that they wouldn’t fuck us.
That is disgusting.
And I felt disgusting.
And no one cared.
I said I would never talk to him again, I cried, I hurt myself, and yet everyone told me not to take it like that, “he was drunk.”
But he still said it! He still thinks it’s okay to say that!
And I can’t deal with that in my life. I can’t be afraid of talking to relatives.
I can’t live my life disgusted of someone who lives near me.
I hate him.
And I am never going to be comfortable around someone who thinks it’s okay to say that. That it’s funny. That I am somehow into him? That he can use that against me? What the fuck?
That’s just fucked up.
So I’m not talking to him. I’m not going to even look at him until he apologizes and recognizes that what he did was wrong and unacceptable. And I’m not going to take a joke as an apology. I’m not going to accept him saying I’m pretty and he lied, because that still implies that he said something he thinks it’s okay.
If he doesn’t tell me that he stepped over the line and it was wrong to tell me he fucking me was even a remote possibility, I will not talk to him.
Sorry for the rant but I just needed to get this out of my chest.
I am disgusted, and mad.