I had an awful, probably my worst ever (yet), date this past week. Looking back, I really should have never even gone out with this guy. I wasn't that interested, but I was bored, so I figured, hey, what do I have to lose?

I meet him at a bar near my apartment. We talk about nothing. I make stupid jokes, ask him his stance on abortion, you know, typical first date conversation. Then he tells me he hasn't had sex in over a year. I think to myself, "Okay... where is this going?" Of course, date then asks me, "When was the last time you had sex?" I pretend-think for a moment, even though my memory is hardly foggy. I respond finally, "about two weeks ago." This conversation continues with him asking me with who, and how I knew the guy, and was it good, and blah blah blah--shit he really has no reason to ask me. Dude gets possessive, and I think, this is odd. I answered his questions, because, frankly, I'm not ashamed of my sex life, and maybe, subconsciously, I wanted to end the date early. I briefly talked to him about my "relationship" with the man in question, whom I had spent the night with two weeks ago. I didn't go into any detail, and yet he says, "Wow, you're like a walking contradiction, and so emotionally immature." I was silent for a moment--trying to get my thoughts together--trying to keep cool. I asked him why he was saying these things to me. He said: "Because, you sound like a whore."

That word, "whore." My brain was in overdrive trying to remember if I had ever been called that before. I hadn't. I had been called a "Slut" before, a "Tease", but never "Whore." I got upset. I got scared. I got pissed. I said to him, "How am I a whore? Because I had sex two weeks ago before I even knew you?" He responds sharply, "No, I didn't say you were a whore, I said you sounded like one. God, it's like I'm talking to a wall. Sheesh."

Before I go further, I should say that, typically when I am in these situations I purposefully continue with them, because I enjoy confrontation, and honestly, I was interested in what else he may say to me. So, I didn't walk away, not just yet.

I sat there for a moment, blank. He called the waitress over and asked for the check. I got up out of our booth to leave, said a sarcastic, "Well, thanks." I'm already leaving, and he yells, "Get the fuck out of here!" At this point, I'm honestly feeling a tad scared. I run out the door, fearing he'll follow me, that he'll beat me, that he'll rape me, who knows? I run down the block out of sight. I make it safely home.

I get home, and I'm angry. I'm angry because I feel like I didn't fully stand up for myself. I'm angry because fear overtook me. I'm angry because I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to throw my drink on him. But I didn't. I didn't because I was afraid of the repercussions. He was bigger than me. He could hurt me. He was a threat.

These are choices women have to make everyday, and it's awful. I wish I could stand up for myself/talk back to a man without fearing my life may be in danger afterwards. I wish I didn't have to fear physical and/or sexual violence.  I wish people, namely men, could argue with me without resorting to sexist name calling.

One thing I'm sure of: my fears on this subject are very real. I have reason to be hypervigilant in these situations. Because I'm a woman, I'm immediately a target.

Though, I may wish that I could have said more, I know it's best that I didn't. Generally, it's better to just remove oneself when arguing with the mentally unsound. However, I can't help but feel pissed off that I was silenced by fear. The reality is, men don't fight fairly with women. They posture, they throw their weight around, they intimidate--and I'm so fucking sick of it.

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