Dear page on the internet where I endeavor to put my thoughts,
On Saturday, I kicked a man. and I loved it.
It wasn’t premeditated, no, he grabbed my hand and when I pulled it away, he touched my breast and I kicked him. I totally regret the fact that I kicked him only once and on the side of his thigh. I don’t care about the fact that he looked drunk. I wish I had kicked him in the groin, you know, that part of him that we are made to believe drives certain men to act in such ways.
I have spent my weekend fantasising about the kind of beat down I would like to give to that man. I wish I had hit him in the face, not just head, in the face with my bag, I wish my zippers would have left a mark on his wretched face.
I wish I’d had a weapon,a tree trunk perhaps, something to hit him with, I wish I had left him on the ground writhing in pain, conscious. I wish I’d left him with bruised muscles and a wound that will leave a scar, in a place that will ensure that long after the pain subsides, he will remember it like it was just happening.
I am not a violent person. In fact, I am not even a big fan of calling attention to myself. I do not know why I did it. I am just tired of such men. Disrespectful men. Men who do not consider women to be human beings. There are so many and they seem to be everywhere. So for once, I didn’t think about appearances, I just reacted.
Special shout out goes to my friend who helped me calm down by offering me smirnoff black ice and ginger biscuits (they actually go well together) and just listening to me vent. You are a keeper.