Hunting Party
I was dressed in my short red H&M Divided dress, gold Primark
trench coat (unbuttoned because I was boiling) and canvas sneakers, one of my
favourite outfits because it’s comfortable but also highly feminine and I
always feel empowered and confident whenever I wear red.
Walking past Foot Locker,
with my mask down, head held high and a smile on my face I clocked a group of
black men near a bench. I walked past, still smiling, but then one of them said
something to his friend in a different language. I kept walking, but ended up
looking back out of curiosity. He noticed and told me to wait, still stupidly
curious, I did. As he came up to me, still holding his can of Stella, he told
me that he’d just told his friends that I was so happy, and calm, that I was
beautiful and that he loved my style. I burst out laughing. Still thinking
about my bus stop experience I was fully aware that I was now experiencing the polar
opposite of that situation. Let’s see
what lines he gives me. He asked me where I was coming from, I told him. He
had no idea Festival Square was there and asked if I had anything to do with
Pride, I said I was an ally but no (he asked me what the word ally meant). We
exchanged names (Lewis) and started a conversation about the LGBTQIA+ acronym
in which he said, essentially, it was pointless to have any more letters after
LGBTQ because they were the main ones and so we didn’t need any more and we
would just end up going until the entire alphabet was added. After trying (and
failing because he kept arguing with me) to explain that the world now
comprises of people who need to be included because they don’t fit into the
main categories and that was why we had the plus to include them all as well as
for allies to community. This led to a discussion about how he thought asexuals
and celibates, where the same thing which, in turn, let to him uttering one of
the most stupid statements I’d ever heard that basically was “everyone needs
sex at some point in their life.” As someone who’s sexual identity most of the
time actually is as an ace I knew I didn’t want to waste my time trying to
educate him.
After Lewis forgot my name three times I told him that I needed to leave in
order to get my bus, he said he’d take my number so that we could continue our
conversation, I laughed and told him no. Walking with me for a bit, he said, “We
should really discuss it. Are you busy tomorrow (Sunday)?”
“Yes.”
“Monday, I’ll take you to
Chroma. Do you know where it is?”
I shook my head and he pointed in a different direction. “No
worries, we can meet up and I’ll take you there, so Monday?”
“Busy.”
“Wednesday?”
Deciding to play with him a
bit because I could, I pulled out my phone and looked at my calendar. “I’m
sorry I’m busy.” I said looking up from my empty schedule for Wednesday. He took the hint….slightly. Using one of the
easiest tricks in human psychology as we walked along he started fishing for
info by saying I was meeting my boyfriend instead of asking me if I had a
boyfriend or partner and my age to which I gave him a crumb and said no I
didn’t say that but also I didn’t have a boyfriend and I was 30 (If I had a
pound for every person who’s told me I don’t look 30 I’d be 10 pounds richer by
now).
Lewis nodded. “You got it all, you’re beautiful, 30, no
boyfriend…..” then he fed me the golden line. “I’ll take care of you.” Because
obviously the only thing missing in an independent woman’s life is a man who
thinks she can’t be happy single.
I laughed so hard I had to stop walking. “Really, you’d take care of
me?” I was a bit cruel because I made my tone inquisitive and slightly hopeful
instead of incredulous.
“Yeah, I’d take really good care of you, I swear on my mother’s
life.”
He is so full of shit. How
bad must your word of honour be if you have to bring your mum into it?
At this point I’d doubled over laughing. I could not believe he was
giving me this spiel and thought I’d actually fall for it.
“Look, Lewis, in a very small way I do admire
your tenacity but the answer is no.” He nodded at me like a dog that had just
been told he’s a good boy. “I like that, I like the word tenacity, come on
you’ve gotta take my number.”
“No.”
“It’s your loss, come on beautiful. You are beautiful, you know it,
and you gotta give me points for that.”
I could not stop laughing. It was his loss and he knew it.
I pretended to think about it, raised my eyebrow and said, “I’ll
give you three points.”
“Three,” he said incredulously. “You are evil.”
I laughed. “This is where we part ways Lewis, no doubt I’ll see you
around, Manchester is small, so is the world, so take care of yourself, it was
a pleasure to meet you.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you and I hope we do meet again.” He
finally remembered my name after that. I
walked off and he joined his friends in a different direction. I didn’t look
back, I was too busy laughing and shaking my head.
I refuse to be a woman afraid of the world. I don’t ever want to
have fear rule my life again after this past year and a half. I know the
Universe has my back and keeps me safe. So, still smiling, I headed to my bus stop. Just
at the Halifax cash machine a portly man covered in tattoos was in my path and
just as I was about to take a different route he spotted me, bowed low and
stepped back to let me pass the almost completely empty Gardens.
“Thank you,” I said, laughing in surprise.
He put his fist out for a fist bump and said, “I love your hair.”
“Thank you, I love your tattoos.” They were stunning.
“Thank you.” He puts out his hand for a handshake. As someone who
used to be surrounded by business people, turns out handshaking is still ingrained
in my brain because I shook his hand, which he then used to twirl me around,
then he let go of my hand, evoking a laugh of complete surprise from me.
“Have a good evening, beautiful, I’ll behave myself and go.” He said,
walking away.
Before I could even blink I laughed and replied, “Good, otherwise I’d
have to punish you.”
“Ooh I like that. You need to come to Newcastle.”
Still laughing I kept walking, stopping to take one last photograph
of Big Ben, before reaching my bus stop at as exactly the same moment my bus
pulled up.
The power of my own femininity is something I’ve only started
engaging with and exploring, never having really taken the opportunity to do so
before. Men fascinate me, their reaction
to me intrigues and slightly confuses me. I’ve always seen them as equal counterparts
(who, unfortunately, hold a lot of power) I’ve never been afraid of them but the
fear has trickled down from reality and reading too many true crime stories as
a teenager.
I still struggle with enjoying showing off my body. I often feel like my femininity is a being so much bigger and wilder than me, that's also fiercely unapologetic. It used to cause a serious internal battle with my very shy personality that loves hiding every inch of my body from the world, but I'm working on that. There are times
when I really want to dress sexily but I’m afraid, afraid that it’ll elicit a
violent reaction or unwanted attention because I only dress for myself and not
for anyone else. Sometimes I actually do want the attention (a very new feeling for me) I hate that my confidence fails in these moments. It’s
actually a huge reason why I’m such a gigantic fan of Drag SOS; watching that
show basically gave me the confidence to bring my beloved heels back out of my
closet after hiding them for two years.
If the men I meet can measure up to my standards I enjoy engaging with them, if not I enjoy playing with them (to which I’ve faced no form of resistance; if anything they enjoy it). Cruel, I know, but honest. I know masculine and feminine energies exist and that I possess both and use both to my advantage, although currently they are unbalanced. I know I could defend myself if need be. But I personally see nothing wrong with teasing or flirting when I live in a society that’ll probably blame me if I get murdered or raped anyway. Teasing or flirting only go so far; if I say no and I’m not being listened to then I am not the one to blame (see my exchange with Lewis above). Besides, our society is seriously messed up and I want to have as much fun as I can before I die. I love the night and feel the most alive when exploring in it so I don't want to let fear stop me from doing that.
The fact that I think about the possibility that showing off my body, with it's curves, (which I happen to love very much) could end up getting me killed or raped is something I really wish I didn't randomly think about, especially since I'm just beginning my style journey, but it is a brutal reality, and I know I should probably be more thoughtful with the things I say when it comes to engaging in interactions with strange men at 1am but the truth is I don't, only because I haven't had any practice with it at all and I'm not used to closing myself off to people (which maybe isn't such a good thing).
I don’t believe people when they tell me I’m beautiful because I
assume they mean only my exterior. I do appreciate my body (not as much as I
should though) but my own beauty, to me at least, is in my soul, my words and
the things I create. I will only believe a person who says I’m beautiful if
they know me, if they know how I feel, what makes me tick and has the ability to
understand me. I’m not perfect, I’m human so if they can see my occasionally ugly,
vicious and cruel side and still see beauty in there somewhere then they may be
worth my time.
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