In Which ChutzpahGrrl Fucks Up

A few times, I have had the opportunity to listen to other's stories of having committed some form of abuse, often sexual in nature.  Sometimes these people have been partners of mine and sometimes those same partners have been the best supports to me in my path since being raped.

Sometimes the stories are told in blame for the other person, sometimes they are told dispassionately, and sometimes they are told with guilt or shame or regret.  It all depends on where we are since the story occurred.  The act of sharing these things is vulnerable; and I honor those who choose to share, regardless of how I feel hearing the story.

It is important to remember that none of us are born with an innate understanding of how to function in society.  We are taught many things we later need to unlearn.  Sometimes the coping mechanisms we develop in childhood and adolescence are a detriment when we become adults.  We are not always given the tools to understand how to decide what path to take.  And sometimes, even when we know what the correct path for us is, we still fuck it up.  Thus, in honor of those who share with me, I am sharing with you my latest story of how I fucked up.

A few months ago I started volunteering as a facilitator for a youth group.  In my initiatory sessions I became enthralled with these young people.  They are brilliant, creative, understandable, funny, commendable and full of exciting potential.  They made it easy for me to feel useful in a way I have not felt in years, and I am grateful for it. 

There is a line between being approachable because you are seen as understanding someone's perspective and interacting like one of the crowd.  Now, I will never be one of the crowd in a crowd of youth, nor do I want to be, however, I noticed that sometimes I responded to them less as a facilitator and more as a community member.  Sometimes that was not a good choice, and I realized I had to be more careful.

A few weeks ago a youth came to the group who I had not met before.  We were having a group discussion in which that person said something to me about wildness related to me, to which I responded "Oh honey, you have no idea."

I didn't mean for it to sound the way it sounded, but as you can see, it sounds completely suggestive and this young person totally called me out on it.  As if that was not stupid enough of me, I was embarrassed and so verbally dismissed the discomfort of that person.

That is some shit right there that I have to work on!  It is not as if I do not know the right way to respond to someone who tells you you have done something that hurt them.  You hold your own feelings and focus on theirs, acknowledge their feelings, apologize and without being defensive (which I was) you may acknowledge not meaning to be an ass.

That is what I plan to do next time I see this person.*  It is important for youth to have appropriate behavior modeled, and if I could not do it at that moment, at least I can acknowledge for that person that I fucked up and I am willing to do the right thing now.

Still, I have a harsh judgment of myself that I have not ingrained the appropriate responses into myself.  When someone tells me a story in which they have regret or shame or guilt, I tend to counsel a lot of self-compassion.  And I recognize that I too should counsel this for myself.  One can not guarantee the compassion of others, and we need compassion for our mistakes when we already know we did wrong.

I believe a lot of the reason we beat ourselves up so much is because we have grown such a fear of other's disapproval.  We are capable of hurting ourselves so much more than others, and we get to be in control.  Somehow, psychologically this feels better to a lot of us.

The problem with that much hurt, is that we undercut our ability to become better at what resulted in the mistake.  It is still appropriate to have humility, an understanding of our mistake and how it adversely affected others and ourselves; but feeling bad is only useful in telling us where we need to grow. Energy spent on continuing to make ourselves feel bad, takes energy away from improving ourselves and can set up a self fulfilling prophecy where we make the mistake again because we are so focused on it and on ourselves as bad.  Not to mention the tendency some of us have to then seek assistance from others (sometimes the ones we have wronged) to help us feel better.

So I tell myself as I tell all of us, "make this as right as possible, and you will be more careful in the future."


*There are times when it is inappropriate to go back even to apologize.  It has to do with the amount of abuse one sustained on another.  I do not think this is one of those times.

Holiday Lament of a Customer Service Agent

'Twas an hour before closing, and all through the shop
were vibrators and dildos piled up to the top.
Products were displayed to encourage sex drive,
with hope that some customers soon would arrive.

I, with my box cutter and things to receive,
had plenty to do, things to achieve.

Ding-Dong went the bell, our door opening sound
to warn that an imminent customer was 'round.
"Welcome!" said I, in my most friendly way,
itching to make the biggest sale of the day.

He looked 'round a while, then resettled his cap,
and bustled his way o'er to me at cash/wrap.
"Hello there" he boomed, while eying a price,
"I say, could I ask you a bit of advice?"

"Of course!" I responded, quite eager to please,
though not knowing the question, I'd no guarantees.

"It's my wife!" he exploded, "She's gon' through the change.
She used to be normal but now she is strange.
I married a hot little ticket like you,
but religious and repressed, she had not a clue.

I took her on as my protegée,
with groups and meetings, I got my way.
We had wonderful sex, but not anymore.
It's as though she now thinks of sex as a chore.
You know, you get married and have a whole lot of fun,
having sex left and right, but only when young!
Now I realize that marriage is a lie and a trap.
Having sex later on is huge load of crap!

He went on explaining how awful it was
to have sex so seldom, as "the menopause" does.

"What's that thing that they need?  Sounds like engine?"
I supplied "Estrogen*", not knowing where to begin.
"Yeah, that!" he erupted.  "Do they make it in powder?
I could spike what she eats!" he said even louder.
"She wouldn't know why, but she'd want sex all the time!
Not every few months.  That'd sure be sublime."

He went on a while about his frustration,
his lot in life and great woe of his station.
I counseled myself, as he gibbered and prattled,
as dissonance inside me started a battle.
Drugging someone for sex has such distaste,
but he couldn't leave the store feeling debased.

Consulting my merits, I named them at length:
"On clarity and kindness, now saavy and strength!"
This was a prayer that I sent overhead,
to myself, or a God, either way, I then said:

"That you get by prescription, so your time'd be misspent.
Because of cancer,** you'd want her consent.
For her, you might look into good lubrication.
And envision yourself using fun masturbation.

We have some toys that might be appealing to you
since it's normal to need some excitement in lieu
of intercourse that may not be in your wife's range,
which is normal while all of her sex hormones change."

Excited at the prospect of a toy of his own,
he thanked me for the great understanding I'd shown.
He left on a high note (he bought not a thing),
highlighting his exit, my un-proffered hand he did wring.

"What a great store this is!  I'll be back with my wife!
I'm sure, if you talk, you can help with her strife."
This he yelled through the door, with the lights burning bright,
"I'm so glad I came in!  And to you a good-night!"


*Estrogen is not the only hormone that is in play with menopause.  He didn't know this.
** Hormone replacement therapy can raise the likelihood that someone may get cancer.

Retail Therapy: We Need Some

It was a strange week in the land of retail.  Perhaps it was the cold (yes, it can be cold here in the Southwest) or are we coming up on a full moon?

As a retailer, it is expected that customers be not only forgiven but also remain largely oblivious to their gaffes.  Sometimes though, my cup runeth over and you get to hear the story.

I have three short stories from last week in three acts: confusion, surprise and horror.

Confusion:
A gaggle of somewhat sober, recent graduates take over the store.  Each has to use our "no customers" bathroom in turn.  I smile and run around answering questions for each as they split into groups of two or three to investigate.  At checkout one tells me that one of her best friends is the first in her group to be getting married.

"I'm so excited to find this store!  I'm going to do her party.  She's really conservative.  I'm going to do penises everywhere!  Penis straws, penis water bottles, penis napkins... She's going to HATE it!"

Commentary: Wtf?  What kind of friend does something they specifically know the other person will hate?  On an important occasion?  This hurts my brain.

Surprise:
::ring:: ::ring::
"Hello Business Name, this is Kathryn."

"Yes, do you sell thongs for men?"

"You know, we don't.  We're a small store and it's difficult for us to carry clothing.  But there are some places I can sugges--"

"Oh that's too bad.  It's for a party tonight so I'm kinda' in a hurry."

"Well, sometimes Kohl's and JC Penney have sexy men's underwear and"

"It's a naked party.  So, I mean the underwear would just be for the time before all that comes off."

"Oh, that's good.  You might also try a store called Free Radicals."

"It should be fun, but you know, I want something to show off everything before the nakedness really happens."

"Of course.  I'm not sure how much luck you'll have in finding a thong, but sometimes jock straps are made very sexy and that's essentially the same thing."

"That's true.  This is going to be a great party.  We started off with just 4 people but now we have, like, 20."

"Yes, it's difficult to make that kind of party happen, especially here."

"Yeah, hey you wanna' come?"

"Oh, thank you but I can't."

"No, really, you sound cool.  I'd like to invite you."

"Well, I don't accept invitations from people I don't know."

"I could come down to the store and you could decide then."

"Actually I can't accept anything personally while I'm in a professional role here at work."

"Oh, but, so, if we met outside of your work..."

"I'm flattered, but your party is tonight and I work late tonight."

"Oh, okay.  Well, maybe next time."

"Maybe next time."

Commentary: No, maybe not next time.  I'd be very happy to attend a sex party, but I'm concerned if someone's criteria on the people they invite is that they 'sound cool'.

Horror:
I'm having a conversation with a customer about lubricant.  We're discussing the merits and drawbacks of water vs. silicone lube.  The customer needs something to take on a trip with her.
"What's this one?"

"That's a silicone lube that comes specifically in a travel case.  Silicone leaks a bit and gets on everything so that company was thinking ahead."

::Customer grabbing her right armpit:: "Leaks?"

::Me putting two and two together:: "Oh, I just meant the lubricant.  Implants are well contained and tested so they don't leak."*

"Oh, okay.  I sure hope it don't leak.  I've had this for 13 years.  It don't feel like the other."

"Yes, I've heard that you must massage them frequently if you want them to stay soft."

"Well, that makes sense because it does seem to soften up if I'm touching it.  Here, feel."

"No, thank you."

"No really, it's okay, just touch them each, you'll see they're different."

"Thank you, I'd rather not.  Actually I had a girl friend once who had a silicone implant."

Commentary: I love this.  I think I might actually be this woman if I lost some of the social conditioning I've developed.  I went through a process between the first time she asked and the second.  It took about a milisecond but in it I considered how I am curious about how implants feel (that gf had no tissue on one side of her chest so the implant was a bit different than it might have been for someone else).  I also considered how and why someone would ask a store clerk to touch their breasts and how I really did not want to touch this woman at all.  Also, it seemed she was going to argue more before I said I'd already felt a silicone implant.


*I just watched the Mythbusters' episode on silicone implants at altitude.  I feels smart.

And The Cat Too?

Part of recovering from trauma is dealing with recurrences of trauma symptoms.  While nothing could really compare to the PTSD symptoms of the original trauma/s, whenever that little switch gets triggered, back they come, shadows of the original but the original was so immense that these are nothing at which to sneeze.

I say a 'little switch' because it feels oddly instantaneous, like a light switch.  I am using it to refer to the neural pathways that your brain learns from trauma.  You know how there are these amazing stories of someone paralyzed and their brain maps out a new way to get signals to a part of the brain so they can move again?  It is like that only in the "oh darn :(" way.

I have been assured that brains work this way with trauma, depression, etc.  That is why correcting these things quickly, with medication if necessary, is so important.  The less time the brain spends working those unpleasant neural pathways, the less likely it is the brain will stay or go back there.  Habits, you know?

The first thing I am likely to notice when I am starting to go back to that rape brain again, is my startle response goes up.  This means I scream a lot.  At anything.  Because I am startled and my brain automatically thinks I am gonna' die.  This is embarrassing.  People look at you funny and feel bad when they say "hi" and you jump out of your skin with a bloodcurdling shriek.  They might get angry at you for screaming and scaring them or hurting their ears.  And the last thing anyone wants to hear is an explanation of how you are "triggered" and you are sorry but it is a chemical response.

The second thing that comes on, is the crazy dreaming.  I dream about new trauma situations, I dream about the original trauma, I dream about snakes.

"Snakes?" you say.  Yes.  It is a funny thing.  I have been phobic of snakes most of my life.  Some years ago I went through a bout of therapy to solve the snake issue that was keeping me from walking on grass, much less the woods or anyplace that was not covered in cement or asphalt.  It worked, and every year I hold a snake the keep up with the improvements.  So there must be a similar pathway in my brain between trauma and phobia because when one is triggered, so is the other.

After bad dreams, there is general fatigue, nausea, headaches; all this stuff that could be from something else, but is not.  Sometimes depression fits in here, but not this time.  I do not think.  Sometimes it is hard to tell.

And then there is the cat dying.

"What???" you ask.  Yeah, totally weird.  So, the first time I can definitively say I was raped, a few weeks later my beautiful and charismatic tuxedo cat was diagnosed with cancer and died.

Yesterday, my other cat, a super sweet and soft orange and white tabby died suddenly of heart failure.

I am beginning to see a pattern here, and I do not like it.

There is good news.  The good news is that all of these recurring symptoms are not a full list nor as pronounced as that original trauma produced (except the cat).  That was some crazy shit then.  And I have grown to have better coping mechanisms for these things.  Also, I have no more cats.

Gallows-cat humor aside, I wish I could be more humorous and more poetic about this topic.  That is what makes these topics palatable to read about.  But I try to find the humor in this process and fail.  I think about all the people I have met since my rape and how many people came out of the woodwork as survivors and all the stories and all the pain and a new view of the world emerged from which this blog springs.  I am not a duck; I can no longer let creepy things roll off my back.  I have to write about them.  I only hope that I can make it worth reading.

Past Over Hard

I am weary.  The sort of weary one might be after taking the SATs, GREs, MCAT then LSAT all in the same 24 hours.  The kind of weary that Frodo and Sam look as they leave Mordor.  This is the end of my two week trip to try, in vain, to finish clearing out my late mother's house.

I have eaten lobster that I can not get at home.  I have had a break spent at my favorite retreat with cherished people.  There's been dinner with Robin*, and a visit from my partner in VT.

I have listened for days on end to my loved god-mother's health issues.  I have talked to my sister about a faster process, but we're still doing the same slow method.  I have sciatic pain, shoulder pain and neck pain.  I have run out of money, gotten more, run out again, and have eaten the same Chinese leftovers for four days straight.  I have slept on the couch of my god parents, in one hotel, then another, then another.  I have had a combined total of 40 minutes of alone time in the past weeks.  I have found not only a folded piece of paper with $179 in it, but also my mother's bag of adult items plus naked pictures of her with the family dog. 

I am ready to go home.

* * * * * * *

I arrive later than desired at my hotel by the airport.  It's 7:30 and although I consider going to bed right away, it's still light out and I decide it might be nice to do something.  Robin has been texting to see if we can get together again before I leave, so I tell her to come by.

"Take me somewhere with alcohol or ice cream" I instruct her when she arrives; "I don't care which."

After ice cream, we sit in the parking lot of my hotel.  I've asked to be dropped off.  She is persistent.  We go inside together.

Two different agendas, and had I realized, had I given it more import ... well... maybe I would, maybe she would not, maybe maybe.

She worries if I want her there	I worry that I've made the wrong decision
I try to do what I want	She tries to do what she wants
I don't want that	She wants to know if it's her body
I say no, please don't	She is ashamed of how she looks
I offer alternatives	She tries again, in a different way
I realize...	She wants...
I tell her I won't let her use me like that	She is horrified
I am afraid and sad and want to protect her	She leaves

People see issues of assault, rape and violence in black and white.  We break it down that way to make judgment easier.  It is not wrong, there are things that are black and white.  But in the world of actions, it can be fuzzy, confused, distressing and wrought with messages softer than necessary because we care for her, and harder than necessary because we are selfish.  There are lines of difference between saying, showing, coercing, pushing.  There can be shades of confusion in how we say no, I don't want that, I'm scared.

It doesn't take much to retrigger old wounds.  Trauma, whether recognized or not, comes back to claim us.  I am seeing this scene over and over.  Intellectual chewing gum. I try to figure out where I went wrong, what I should have done, why did it happen?  It's not helpful.

I wish, it hadn't been like that
	I wish we hadn't assumed the wrong things
I wish I had been more clear
	I wish she had heard
I wish she had been able to explain
	I wish I had understood
It's not your fault
	It's not mine either

I lay and a tear, hot with chemicals, rolls and drops into my left ear.  We have to move.  We just have to keep moving.  I am weary.



* Name changed as usual.  Robin and I met in March 2013, had a fun time at an event where neither of us knew many people and shared some kissing at the end of the evening.

Park Particulars

Since getting our dog, we've become regulars at the dog park.  I mean, we practically live there.  The dog goes at least once a day, twice on the weekends, plus we check out other dog parks in between.  And there seems to be no place better to see creepitude played out than where everyone is projecting it onto their animal.

Case in point: humping.  The dog park's third favorite activity (preceded by sniffing and peeing).  Oh how uncomfortable people are with dogs humping each other!

Of course, there's been real research into how dogs live, what they communicate and what their goals are.  Knowing that in any research, we're presupposing our own anthropomorphic ideas by the nature of asking the question, it doesn't surprise me that many dog park goers bypass animal research and just do their own anthropomorphizing.

In other words, people make up reasons for what their dogs are doing based on what would be true if the dogs were human.

Two days ago, our dog was playing with a dog a bit smaller than him.  The other dog's agenda: hump, hump more.  He would have humped our dog all day except his owners were sooper uncomfortable.  "No!" his female owner screamed, grabbing the dog and smacking him hard on the butt.  Then she laughed, hugged the dog, and smacked him in the face, giving the dog a cement-like mixed signal.

::Sidenote:: I think it's fine if someone wants to teach their dog not to hump.  We try to teach ours not to bark while playing.  Scares people, you know?  But hitting a dog is 1. not affective and 2. abuse. 

We think we know from research, that humping (since there weren't any dogs in heat) is about dominance.  I'd like to say that people are uncomfortable with displays of dominance, but I know that's not true.  Just look at our media.  People revel in displays of dominance.  Potentially, folks are upset about displays of homosexuality, but I rather doubt this too.  When someone notices their dog mounting a dog of the same sex, they laugh nervously and pull their dog off describing it as "a big homo", which means that they see humping behavior as sexual.  I think it's discomfort with sex (and perceived discomfort) that is behind the issues with humping.

This hang up, when applied to animals is silly.*  When our dog doesn't want to be humped, he runs out from under the other dog.  Or he sits down.  Sometimes he rolls over and kicks his foot into the crotch of the other dog.  Voila!  When this discomfort gets applied in real life, we end up with ridiculous decisions being made about access like this: CNM Chronical Suspended.

******

Here's something else that mirrors human life too much at the dog park: people who feel entitled to touch dogs, regardless of what the dog appears to want.

We got our dog as a rescue.  We know little about his past, but symptomatically it's clear that he has a hard time with some people, especially men.  We sometimes joke with strangers that he "barks first and asks questions later" when we want to soothe ruffled feelings.  We call him away from the strangers at whom he barks; no need to have people fearing they're going to be a late afternoon doggy snack.

Despite how clear our dog is in how he feels about certain people, they reach down to touch him anyway.  I'm not talking about letting him sniff a hand, or similar "make nice" gestures.  I'm talking about "I am going to pet you, and I'm ignoring your clear signals that it's not okay".  Some people literally chase our dog so that they can touch him.

Really, folks?  Really?  I know how this feels, do you?  In this past week alone a customer touched me inappropriately, I was kissed on the head by someone I don't really know when I refused to accept his advances of a hug and a friend pulled me into a hug that I would have been fine with if I'd been asked first.

To our dog's credit, when those people succeed in touching him, he only shies away and barks some more.  He's never bitten anyone as far as we know, and although I'd like to bite the people who do this to him, it's good he doesn't.

The dog park is a microcosm of little creepy things we do as humans.  It's ignoring your dog so you can honestly say you never saw her take a poo (as validation for why you didn't scoop it).  It's smacking your dog to discipline him.  It's also telling your dog a command and then permissively ignoring when he doesn't do as you say, laughingly saying that "he doesn't feel like it".  All these things that indicate that as a culture we are people who don't want to take responsibility, and we believe in violence to solve problems, that we take what we want and don't bother to think about the impact.


*Please note that this would be a different matter if the dog showed signs of not being able to stand up for himself.  Of course then we'd be interpreting his behavior, which leads to oddness.  Let's say, if this was a human, it'd be different.  But that's the point, we don't need to posit our human discomfort with sex on a dog act that probably isn't sexual.

When to Give Up

My sister is searching for a husband.  It keeps not working out because she keeps getting with men who are creepy.  Her newest non-marriage-material man is creepy in that he won't hear her tell him that they are not going to get married.  In other words, she said "no" and he doesn't believe her.

Last night he wrote me this note:*

hi chutzpahgrrl,

this is joe schmoe**.

i want to talk to you, if possible.

i have questions for you about someone that we both care about, your sister. 

please keep this between us for now.  when you hear what i have to say, you will understand.

thanks

joe
### ### ####

Oh what I wanted to say to him!  Or not say... or maybe I wanted to kick him.  

This guy is seriously out of line.  First, he should not be giving my sister a hard time.  Yes, I disagree with her that she is still talking with him, but she's said no, and remember -no means no.  Second, my only context with him was talking on a three-way video chat so that I could check him for bugs for my sister.  That's how he has my email address.  I feel that isn't enough consensual contact for him to email me out of the blue to ask for help in his relationship with my sister, unless possibly things were super awesome and he wants to know her favorite color so he can get her flowers.

I considered not responding at all.  I also considered telling him what he's doing wrong (harassing my sister) and telling him how to do it right ("I'm _______ that we won't be getting married.  I hope that you find what you're looking for because I care about you.")  How much energy do I want to spend on this?  Is it worth it?  In the end, I almost always decide to reply in some way that I hope will show the person insight into my thinking, but not so much that I sound preachy or overly condescending.  And I also try to strike a balance between being a jerk and being too soft.  I want things crystal clear without being mean.

Here's my response:

Hi Joe,

I would not like to talk. 

I feel it's inappropriate for me to be involved in a situation between you and my sister when my sister has no knowledge of it.  I find it creepy that you asked me to keep your message a secret.  I feel manipulated that you've drawn a likeness between us because I care about my sister.

Food for thought: it's a serious issue when someone says "no" and isn't believed or is coerced into changing his or her mind.

The best response he could have given me at this point would have been no response.  I guess I didn't say "I don't want to have a conversation about this" but I think saying I don't want to talk, is quite similar.  If he'd sent a message saying "Okay, that's cool" or similar, I would have been okay.  Instead he wrote back an assenting note, then a defensive note, then another note. 

Assent (also pouty):

I know. I know for sure what you are saying. And any such creepiness could be read into such a conversation without serious consideration of what I might say.

Ok so forget it.  I' ll deal with things from my little corner if the world.

There are no pure motives in this life...other than very basic.

There is more than a little paranoia in our relationship so I would ask you not to mention this regardless of the fact that we won't be speaking in depth. 
We are still talking...

And lastly I will say that I do want your sister to be very happy no matter what she chooses.

And you should be blessed and do well, too.

This is what I just read: you didn't think what I have to say is worth it to you to listen!  Fine!  I'll do it all on my own.  Sure, maybe there were some ulterior motives in my request.  OMG!  Don't tell your sister!  Be well (sorta').

Defense:

We have no third party mentors or any other community between us so try and take it easy on me, ok?

I wrote to you both with selfish and unselfish motives.

I would not expect you to come from any place other than care for your sister.
Life is not a game and relationships are not easy, certainly not when they are truly fulfilling.

Your sister and I are still talking and planning to visit some time in the future.
Nothing mean or disrepectful ever passed between us so, yeah, we have hit our obligatory road bumps as a couple and they aren't easy.

Please play it cool and don't throw gas on the fire, stirring things up by telling her I contacted you.

I wanted to talk to you about emotional damage that affects how people relate...
Let's not then.

The situation as I have observed it is neither extremely bad nor is it ignore-able.  So we will just continue to deal.

I sincerely care about your sister and if circumstances develop in a positive direction, I look forward to spending time getting to know you better, too.

Peace out
joe

What I heard: Hey, I feel hurt by some things you said.  I'm not all bad.  I'm still going to get with your sister.  Woo!  It hurts that you didn't think what I have to say is worth listening to.  OMFG! Don't tell your sister about this!!!!  I'll still be your friend (maybe...).
 
Another:
Additionally, lastly, I will say this in defense/explanation of my attempt to talk to you.
Abusers seek to isolate people from communications, not to engage in communication.
That's all folks!

In my head: congratulations, Joe, you are not abusing me.  I am aware of this.  Also, abusers come in different shapes and sizes.  Also, keeping contact between us a secret is about isolation of my sister.  I mean, doing something you know wouldn't be okay with her is antithetical to trying to make her want to marry you.

Here's the thing, if he hadn't been so adamant about not telling my sister, I might have forgotten until the next time I spoke with her, which really could have been over a week or more.  I found myself thinking that there might be a very good reason my sister should know because he was so insistent.  So I called and said "You're not getting back together with Joe, right?  Okay, because he's contacted me and asked me not to tell."  Jerk?  Yeah, I'm sure I am to him.  But you can barely share a secret with someone and expect them to keep it, especially from someone with whom they're very close.

I can't say for sure how Joe specifically got the notion that pushing when someone says no is the right thing to do.  Certainly we see a lot of permissive parenting in the world.  Maybe he did get ice cream after someone said "no" initially.

There are certainly a lot of examples that suggest that romance seekers (or sex seekers) should keep pushing and eventually s/he will realize how perfect you are.  Aren't most romantic comedies like that?  These are really poor messages to be feeding to people.  We've all been the one spurned, and these stories are mostly fantasies built to help us, the undesired, feel better.  The cost of these tactics is that they supersede things that actually help us respect people we say we care about.

*I have debated for years if it is ethical to use someone else's words, verbatim, when describing how I dislike their actions.  I've decided that as long as I don't say who it is, and most people won't know by context, it's acceptable.

**Obviously I changed names again.