Ass
I now know what it feels like to have a man who will fight for you, literally, and instead of feeling all safe and secure, I feel SCARED. Or at least I did last Saturday. Rob, Bart and I went to a concert. Most of the bands were crap and the sound was absolutely horrible, so instead of standing too close to the stage and having to restrain myself from jabbing pencils in my ears just to MAKE IT STOP, I decided to have a conversation with a random stranger.
Random Stranger, whose name I never cared to ask, was a thirty-something, long-haired fellow with a two-year-old daughter and a pregnant wife at home. He was there to let off some steam, which his ADHD required him to do every so often. Random Stranger had a fat and shy friend who groped my ass and Rob wasn’t having it. Pushing and shoving ensued and I wept like a little girl whilst I and other people tried to keep Rob, Random Stranger and his fat friend from beating each other up.
Bart got upset and said he was leaving, and if we didn’t come with him we’d just have to walk home. Considering that it took us 45 minutes to drive there, walking didn’t seem like such a good idea, so we went with him and all was fine, but I cried the whole way home.
I felt no pride, no sense of security, because here is a man who loves me so much that he will fight for me. I felt a profound fear of something happening to him. I don’t want anything to happen to him and I don’t want anything to happen to me as a result of that, meaning that I have no idea what state I would be in if anything ever does happen to him. And that scares me even more. But I suppose it’s a good thing. I wouldn’t want to be so entirely emotionally independant that I could just go on like normal if anything happens to him. I’ll have the fear instead, even if fear sucks.