November 9, 2016

It’s Election Day in America, and I’ve just cast my vote for a woman for president and to legalize cannibas. I never thought I’d see the day. 

My thoughts lie elsewhere. I’ve been victimized, and I’m coming to terms with it. Yesterday’s post was about my anger and confusion of not being able to process the story a woman told me about her interaction with my now deceased partner just a week before he died. Because of what she told me, in the sweetest way of holding my hands and sitting with our knees touching and leaning in to me, I was confused and angry with him for breaking a relationship agreement. The day before his birthday. 

I see now that I’ve been vulnerable and an easy target. A friend pointed out that I have the guilt and shame a victim typically has after an event. I’m working to let that go, too. I’d like to scream this woman’s name from the rooftops, tag her on social media, let the world know she’s a sociopath who played on the emotions of the Hot Grieving MILF for reasons I can’t understand. Friends tell me she’s manipulated them as well, in what they see as a misguided effort to become part of our community. 

Our community is open and large and easy to enter. It isn’t often we find someone we don’t want there, and we aren’t always very skilled at handling that. We’ve made some big mistakes in the past. The longer we live and the more we experience, the better we get at turning away from unsafe people. Also, with everything that’s happened in this crazy election cycle, we are better at putting names to things. That friend high on ghb who threw me on the ground and had to get pulled off me by another friend while I screamed GET THE FUCK OFF ME? That wasn’t a simple party foul. That was sexual assault. 

This woman who held my hands two days ago and told me lies about intimacy with my dead boyfriend? That’s a sociopath, and I have been victimized. 

I’m feeling good. I’m naming her a sociopath and me a victim, and the clarity is really helpful. I’ve have released all my anger towards Rupert, and I’m letting myself off the hook for being vulnerable to her manipulation. I’m ready to pick back up in my interesting life of grad school, dating, many close friends who lean on me and let me lean on them, my two daughters, and everything else in my world. I learned from this experience that I still wear the Hot Grieving MILF title, but I also know that someday it will shed and fall away. I’m still in it, and I accept that. 

Lastly, if you know me personally and want to know her name, I’ll gladly share it in the interest of protecting my community from harm. 

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