wank

Walking back to my car (parked off Brunswick St) after the Clan Analogue gig, I heard a noise, a groan of pleasure, from the alleyway a couple of meters up. Thinking it was a junkie who'd just shot up, or a tramp who'd found whatever does it for them, I glanced over.

Clear under the street light was a guy on his knees, pants down his thighs, tissue in one hand, dick in the other, who groaned again, and said 'Let's have sex', and moaned even more loudly. I calmly searched through my purse for my keys, got them out, got my key in the door, and glanced over again. He was wearing a jacket and white shirt, and seemed to be well dressed, if not fully dressed, which somehow made it worse. He looked at me again and moaned. A million comments ran through my mind but I couldn't open my mouth because I wasn't sure if my voice would work. Opening my door and thinking of my phone in my bag, I looked over again, and he picked up his pants and held them round his waist as he ran backwards into the darkness of the alley.

In my car, I thought about calling the police, but couldn't imagine that they'd pay any attention to just another pervert who was probably miles away by now anyway. I thought of all the things I could have said - 'I've seen bigger dicks on eight year olds', 'do you need a microscope to find it, pindick?', even 'you're pathetic' or just 'get a life'. I felt dirty and my hands were trembling, and there was nothing I could do to get rid of his taint.

In those few seconds the sight of him on his knees, hand scrabbling furiously, had etched itself into my brain, and as angry as I am that for the next few days it'll be there when I close my eyes, I'm angrier and frightened and belittled by the fact that he managed to silence me, or that I silenced myself. Somehow it seemed all my fault that I saw it and even more my fault that I didn't do anything to challenge his right to do it. I guess at least I didn't scream or act frightened, but acted as if it was nothing to me, but I'm so upset that I was too afraid to say anything. I feel as if I was forced into colluding with it, because somehow the threat of what he could do to me was greater than what I could do to him. I seriously thought about walking over and kicking him in the groin, but even the thought of it makes me think I couldn't be clean afterwards if I showered for a week.

All I can think now is 'how dare he? how dare he?' but I can't think of anything that's going to make me feel better, except time, I guess.

Sometimes, life really sucks.