Humanity

Victim Blaming

I keep trying to write this post…and keep hitting a stopping spot…I’ll try again…

There is a candidate for Senate that has some allegations of forcing himself on a 14 year old girl 40 years ago. I keep reading comments that say, paraphrase, “why did she wait 40 years? It MUST be political” 40 years ago, the common defense to a charge like that was to blame HER for HIS actions. Even now, she is being doxed and having death threats…

I was reading, on a slightly different note, a discussion of men making undesired advances and the person that wrote the article used the phrase “creepy guy”. The conversation went from being about respecting the right of the woman to refuse to being one about what constitutes a “creepy guy” and denying that the Men’s Rights Movement exists.

*exhale*

I’m having a hard time getting past my own anger and disgust so, short words for stupid people…

NO MEANS NO.

Abusing or being in a position of power and using that to proposition a woman is wrong. What was she going to do? How could she refuse him without him lashing out? Hint, being coerced DOES NOT EQUAL CONSENT.

If you have to ask what defines the phrase “creepy guy” odds are, YOU ARE HIM. Denying that the Men’s Rights Movement exists is one of the bigger loads of Horses**t that there is. Justifying it is even worse.

Telling myself to slow down…didn’t work…

What in the hell are you thinking? Women have been coerced for all of time. Most of the women I know, rephrase, every one that has said anything about it to me, has been in that spot. Every. Single. One.

I am NOT a feminist. Don’t need to be. That implies lesser capability. The ones I know are NOT less capable…

What I am is a realist. Not every man has done this stuff. I haven’t. Period. I am not excising some personal guilt. I am speaking as a Man to say no wonder women fear us. Males, the half of the planet that is generally stronger, have forced ourselves on women. We have given them reasons to fear and resent us. Do I really need to rehash all the BS we have, over the length of time, put them through?

It isn’t really about “politics”. Respecting the dignity of another human is basic Adult 101. Not causing fear is the next lesson…or maybe even the first.

F**k me…How hard is the damn lesson?

Ladies, I can’t fix it. Sorry. Apologies for the profanity-laden diatribe. There are some, most I think, kind and decent males in the world. I am sorry that some of my sub-human brethren exist and that you’ve had to bear the brunt of their insecurities and frail egos. Not all of us demand your fear or obeisance. Most of us would prefer that you are what and who you are, capable and strong.

Men, she doesn’t owe you a d**n thing. She doesn’t owe you sex or respect. Those are earned. When you do earn those, you have a treasure beyond price. When you steal sex and force deference, your treasure is like ashes…

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A Curmudgeonly Protective Rant

I’ve decided to be more close-minded. I’m going to slam it shut. I am not going to tolerate other views or perspectives. Willingly and with forethought jump off the deep end into my own view being the only correct one…

You might, at this point, be thinking, “Miller, you claim to be a Heretic. You ‘say’ that your best friends are “other” when it comes to who your demographic is. What gives? Have you just become some kind of a hypocrite?”

Well…no. My view is that my “other” friends are MY friends. What is good for them is good and what harms them is bad. Period. I can not physically protect them. They live too far away. I’m fairly sure that, between them, they have enough shovels to bury the bodies on their own anyway.

In fact, I don’t think they “need” me for any d**n thing. They’ve put up with enough bulls**t in their lives and come out stronger. They’ve walked their paths since long before I was around and they’re still on their feet. They made it past exes and a$$holes and abuse that would make my knees buckle. They’re a bunch of tough broads and I admire the hell out of them for it.

My friends, the “usual suspects” and another that seems to have crawled in over the past couple of years are better than me…and for damn sure you…*see, close-minded as hell*…In spite of that, they put up with me.

What I CAN do is to be on their side…meaning MINE. I can channel my inner curmudgeon and say “f**k you” to the world for them.

If this seems a “tad belligerent”, it is.

It is me protecting by wrapping my figurative arms around them and letting them have space, not a silly “safe space” but, just space where they don’t have to be anything other than who they are. Where some a$$hole guy doesn’t want them for what he can get from them…I lied, I do want to “get” something. It’s just that it isn’t sex, money, power, or personal validation. I don’t need any of those. I get to have people to care about. I get to let them have a bit of me…and I have a bit of them.

So, yeah, closed tight. Wrapped around a group of people that I wouldn’t have sought out. They’re far too different from “old me” for me to have gone looking but, since they’re here, I wouldn’t trade them for any number of you.

Like ’em. Love ’em. Hate ’em. I don’t care what you think. I’m not their “only” friend but, I am one that says “p**s on my demographic I love them just the way they are”

Underdogs

I’ve always been for the underdog. I tend to draw my own conclusions about people and the way I get to them isn’t always a mental path that most people would take.

Why does this have context here? Well…I seem to have an odd preference in my friends. You would think that, as a Christian, I would seek out my coreligionists. That my own demographic would be the group I wanted to be included in and with, yet, that seems not to be the case.

It seems that with Christians, no not all I am NOT painting with a broad brush, some Christians, though, there is competition to be the “best” Christian. That if your dogma is different than my dogma we are opponents. If we have different translations of the Bible, one of us is wrong. That who you allow to preach, meaning gender, is a cause for divide. That if I say that someone is LBGT may not be condemned to Hell makes me a Heretic…yeah, it does, by the way. That if I say that Pagans aren’t going to Hell, that doubles my heresy…again, yeah, it does double it…

The other demographic I tend to prefer is female. When I am around males, I compete. I think it’s a part of my nature. Males NEED to compete with other males. We beat our chests and strut like roosters. We have an image we need to project. I freely admit that, around guys, I do that. Yeah, it sux. It isn’t a “boys will be boys” thing meaning, women as objects or the rest of that stupidity, just having an image to project and protect. It is a bunch of damn work. It’s mentally stressing.

So…now that there’s some groundwork laid…Why Pagans and women and women pagans?

Let’s take this out of order and start with women… It’s just easier. I can be myself. I don’t really want anything from them. I don’t want a date because I’m well and devotedly married to the Love of My Life. I will be for the rest of my life…I digress…I just also don’t need to compete with them. I know their thought processes are different. It stands to reason, there are some serious biological reasons, duh. *editorial, I am not saying anything other than *different* NOT “worse”* If I natter on about “My Sweety this..” or “My Sweety that, blah blah blah…” they don’t get tired of hearing it…and I DO rattle on about it. Did I mention that I LOVE being married?

Now another part of the thought, of all the groups in the world a Christian would find, Pagans? Well…it seems that’s an accident. It really is. I didn’t look for Pagans. Hell, the first time I talked to a Pagan, I assumed she was a Christian. I really did. I thought Pagans, Witches, were a joke caused by Halloween and mass hysteria. How was I to know? Then something happened, I wasn’t really given a choice but to believe that what I thought was wrong. That there are practicing witches. That they have beliefs and faiths that are as valid to them as mine are to me. Talk about a worldview changer. If a seemingly rational person tells you that they are a witch, what are your choices? You can decide they’re not rational or what else? I mean, it sort of factors out Jamestown because that was several hundred years ago. It takes away the stupid Halloween costume witches. What’s left? Accept that THEY believe they are a witch sort of covers the remainder…and if they believe it, either you call them nuts and wander off or, believe it, too…Needless to say, I didn’t wander off and I don’t question their sanity.

So, the original question, even though Paganism isn’t a fit for me, some of it is appealing. The ones I’m close to believe that life is interconnected. That life must have “balance”. That living in harmony with your world is a requirement. Those things appeal very strongly to me…

…and here’s what I started thinking about when I started to write…

Underdogs. I am protective of those people I care about. If I had a Spirit Animal, it would be a half Pit half Border mutt. In other words, a protective and lazy working dog. It may be nature, meaning as a male I instinctively want to protect. It may be nurture, the maddest I have seen my father was when he thought that Mom needed protecting.

My friends, read the people I love, should be protected…at least, they should have someone that says “hey y’all, why do you feel threatened by someone who’s only desire from you is to be left alone?” Since they “protect” me by letting me know that someone actually cares, without expectation of any return, for me, it seems fair that I do what little I may…

*sigh* I sort of lost the train of thought. I suppose it boils down to this. I care about the people I care about. I want the best for them. I do what I may to speak up for them. I didn’t set out to have them as people I care about but, now that I do, I’d rather you call ME out for being a Heretic and judge ME for my views than them for theirs. At least, I willingly decided to pick a path that sets me as a target. All they picked was me…and I am not physically imposing but, I’m too much of a curmudgeon to let some stranger through my thick skin…

Y’all have a nice day. Hug your loved ones. Protect your loves.

 

I Want to Title This “I Am Lucky” But, I Don’t Remember If I Have…

I haven’t written in a very long time. I don’t know if the words will find me…

Since my last post, it seems the World has changed. We are more divided than ever. *editorial, I am not and will not make this “political” because I think the state of “politics” is a symptom and not the disease*

If anyone is to “blame” it is ourselves. Maybe I missed it? Whatever happened to “live and let live”? What happened to being responsible for our own actions? Why is it someone else’s “fault” if something happens to me?

Why is it that it is easier to see someone as “different” and then claim persecution by them. Yes, persecution does happen. I am not denying that. Yes, prejudice and misogyny exist. People are stupid. I really get that. People are xenophobic and clannish. People are a$$holes just because…

People can also be kind and caring. People can empathize. People can reach out to strangers. We may, if we’re lucky, meet people that give us a chance to learn and grow.

I am lucky. I married my best friend. It was our first marriage. It happened in our mid-40’s. It is still, some years later, an “adventure”. I have said a few (thousand) times, “Smartest damn thing I ever did was marry her”. She makes me grow. She, not realizing it, forces me to look outside myself. I do things for her that I will not do for any other human…and sometimes I fall flat on my face, too…

Yesterday, I was also lucky. If you happen to read back through the blog from years past, you’ll find Aj all through them. I used, in a conversation a few minutes ago, the phrase, “I am romantically attached to ONE human and love a vanishingly few others”. As it turned out, yesterday, I was able to talk to, and watch them talk, a pair of them. It was the first time they interacted. There are not really words for how nice that was. The “funny”, read odd, thing is that I don’t really have any common demographic with them…race but, that doesn’t count…The list of “we don’t share” includes, gender, faith, geographical location, parental status, probably “that ‘p-word'”, a desire to go outdoors…pick a bunch more… and I love them dearly… What they have in common with my wife is that they force me, unknowingly, to look outside myself…and for that, they have my eternal gratitude…

Hobbes said, “No arts; no letters; no society; and which is worst of all, continual fear, and danger of violent death: and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short.” 

Yet, if we are lucky and I am, there are reasons not to be those.

We can make our own society that doesn’t include fear…well, aside from our own nightmares and insecurities but, you get my point. We can live knowing that the odds of “violent death” are small. We can be not “solitary”. The paragraphs up there prove that to me…As for the next two, “nasty” and “brutish”, those choices belong to YOU. “Short”? Who knows when this path ends? We are all going to be surprised when it does…

Life is an odd place. I am lucky that I finally grew up. I am grateful for every breath I am allowed. I am also grateful that I am allowed to have some people to love and that, I truly hope, love me back.

Ya know what? You decide what you want to do. Love me or hate me. See my demographic and blame me. See my loves as different. Those are YOUR choices. Live a cold, bleak, and distant life. See life as competition and struggle. I am not willing to spend my emotional energy on that. For me and mine, I’ll care for those in MY world and not be concerned with how you live in yours. Seems fair to me…

 

Other…

I was talking to a friend. She called herself “other”, meaning “different”…

It occurs to me that we are all other. I mean, even the people we think are “same” aren’t. How could we be? As far as I know, there are no cloned humans with exactly the same experiences. We might share a gender, political views, religious views, and sexual orientation but, even then, we came to those spots inside our own skins…

So, why did this idea of Other stick in my head?

It is because of this…We need to protect other. We need to appreciate the Otherness of those that are other. Gaaaaack, this seems so obvious to me. We will never be able to fully understand any human. Hell, we don’t even understand ourselves. Anyway, *sigh* to not protect Other, we fail to protect ourselves.

There’s nothing wrong with not being the same.

Current society thinks Other equals Dangerous. If your political views differ, that person must be a threat… I suppose I could go down the list but, y’all get the point…Jumpin’ Jimmeny Christmas and The Easter Bunny, being different doesn’t present an existential threat.

The next part of this thought is, how do we develop and mature our own views if we are so hidebound that we refuse to listen to difference? If am so unwilling to listen to dissent and become so defensive of my own views that I refuse to admit the possibility that I could be in error, odds are that MY views are less valid than I think. Perhaps it’s just me but, I do make mistakes and continually look for holes in what I think and my personal philosophies…and adapt when some Other shows me error or invalidity…

*****

Other is also a trap when you apply it to yourself…

“I am Other and they’re all the Same so, they couldn’t possibly understand me…” That’s what a kid says to their parents and a 20-something says to someone in their 50’s…Not realizing the oldsters survived what they are living. I know I used the section up there to point out how we’re all different but, which in this case doesn’t mean “please disregard”, in quite a few ways we are the same. We all started out pooping our pants. We all want whatever form of “success” we deem. We all want to love and be loved. We will all face the same end…

…and not to drop into “politics” because I have avoided making any indication of any “political” view I might have…

…Our parents survived the Cold War. *I was born in 1963*. Their childhood was filled with above ground Atom Bomb testing. Their parents were the generation of WWII. The parents of kids today, are children of the Viet Nam Era. The World has been filled with “threats” to us since before the Dawn of History…

We, humanity, will survive and adapt. It is our nature to do that…

*****

Other, hunh? Celebrate it.

Other, hunh? Protect it.

Other, hunh? Ignore it.

Other, hunh? Learn from it.

Other, hunh? Yeah, and Same…

Being a Reasonable Person

I quit writing earlier this year. I hit burnout. It felt useless to write because of several reasons the primary ones being that I was, and still am, tired of everything becoming politicized and that the vilification of differences of opinion makes debate seemingly impossible…

Which brings me to why I decided to break my silence. Being a reasonable person is hard. It requires me to assume the person I am talking to is also reasonable. It forces me to maintain the idea that their beliefs and convictions have come from as much thought and internal debate as mine have and it means that, even if I disagree, I have to credit them with intelligence and rationality…

I’m fair minded enough…I hope…to believe that I am capable of being mistaken. I know that I have mad mistakes and will again but since I make mistakes and want my failings forgiven, I must be willing to return that same grace. It would be far easier to be a mean-spirited cynical old b****rd. It would simplify debate if my answer to anything I disagreed with was, “are you f**king stupid?”…and it would make lie to my claim and desire to be reasonable and occasionally rational…

My father says, “everyone has their flat sides.” The way I think he means it and the way I take it is to read that there are imperfect parts to all of us. I KNOW, read “bedrock belief”, that I have mine, see “mean-spirited cynical old b****rd”…and I struggle against that. I enjoy being that person. He’s comfortable. Part of that struggle is to, pardon the trite expression, I have to clean my side of the street before I worry about yours. If I decide to be against something, in Millerspeak, to be an “anti” I have to be sure that what side I take hasn’t done the same or worse than what I’m against. Just because I support something or person or view doesn’t give them a free pass…in fact, it means I hold them to a higher standard and if they fail, I reevaluate MY position.

Being reasonable both simplifies and complicates things. I’ll explain. It simplifies because I have zero tolerance for people that aren’t willing to be and return the same. As a result, I refuse to engage them in conversation. It complicates because, when people disagree rationally and reasonably with my views, I have to give some credence to their view and explain my view in a civil manner, see my comment are you f**king stupid?”…

Anyway, life is too short, my life is at any rate, to be more hypocritical than I can avoid. My own code requires me to give the same consideration and respect that I would want given to me. My friends and loved ones were too carefully allowed into my life to have me want to drive them away because I just decided to be a twerp. Live yours as you wish but, for me, being a reasonable and calm human is a worthy goal and part of my chosen path…

It isn’t how you treat the people you like that matters. That’s easy. What counts, what reflects on you, is how you treat the people you despise. That’s the hard part…

Comfort

The closest intimacy isn’t physical, it’s mental…

I had some random bits rattling around in my head and, since I woke up far too early and haven’t written one of these in some time, decided to let them out…

Hiding your insecurities doesn’t show any self-confidence, it shows the lack. You don’t have to share them with everyone but, someone should know…

I have a friend. It’s an odd sort of friendship. Most start from the outside in. They start with the surface stuff like “Wow, nice Crocs, I love mine, how about you?” and, after some years, gets to “I was having nightmares last night reliving (fill in the blank ugly life event)”. Ours started in the middle and are working our way out. I don’t recommend that as a way to find friends but, it does let you rapidly get there. *grins*

Related to the previous, if you’re going to start there, be prepared to keep that person close forever because you just gave them lots of “permission”. You told them that they could hurt you by revealing your secrets. You told them that they could judge you based on your past. You also told them that you believe in them meaning, you expect them to neither reveal nor judge you.

The friend and I have an agreement. It is that while most friendships have some conditions they’re rarely codified, we did ours. We have two rules. First, “no hiding” and second “trust”. Those rules take “offense” off the table. Neither of us is allowed to take offense at what the other says, within broad reason, some words would hurt, but, not at being told the truth. It also means that we have blanket permission to speak into the other life…

Other odd thought about her. No one, well maybe a couple of people, even know we’re friends. Her friends, out there, don’t even know I exist…I hope. Not that I’m hiding her or fear being hidden. It’s just that there’s no need for others to know…

There’s a “game” she tries. We call it “dare”. She tries to find things to shock me and push me away. I let her. She CAN startle me. Does it frequently but, I don’t easily scare. I am a bit flattered that she tries, that means she cares enough to want me to stay no matter what she throws at me. I encourage her to keep trying because, the more I pass, the less she fears…and the dares give me insight into what drives her…

Look, not everyone is going to be close. Not everyone should but, everyone NEEDS some few people to be unguarded around. Some person that you trust with the “flat sides” of your personality and past. I have a couple. I still don’t know why she decided on me. I asked and I’m not sure she really knows why she decided to reach out to me. I have no clue, after much “wailing and gnashing of teeth”, why I accepted her trust and returned it. After much thought, I still don’t know…and decided the reasons aren’t important. What does matter is that she exists in my world and, if her words can be taken at  face value, that I am in hers. That’s enough. She’s my friend and I want, every time, what’s best for her. That’s a comfortable place for me…and I’m rarely comfortable with friends.

When Heroes Become Villains

 

There’s a place some go. A place I’ve gone, and it’s a place of nightmares. Where you can’t trust the person to wake you up. What if the person who wakes you up from the dreams of monsters, turns out to be the monster themself?

You’ve seen the picture of innocence. Of child-like faith. Not just in God, or blue skies, but in family. Your grandfather is this smelly old guy who teaches you how to play an instrument and makes funny jokes. Your uncle is the greatest person in the world. Your other grandpa comes around and fixes what needs fixed. He throws you in the air and plays games. They are heroes. Superheroes who do no wrong.

And then one person changes that. Family has no meaning. The veil of innocence is gone and you see threats. If this one person, who swore to protect me, is capable of this, then what of them? And you start to see secrets. And secrets are scary. Because secrets live in the dark, and there are always more where those came from.

People get angry when you’re too frightened to be alone with them. As much as you’d love to say you trust them, you can’t, because you know they are just as capable of untold horrors. Family means nothing. “Love” loses it’s touch.

I don’t know if it’s something that can be changed. I’m certain I’m missing out on knowing some great people.  I wish I could trust, especially in family, and trust in “love.”

What I want in life is to fix the world, even if I can’t fix me. I want to see a few people hurt less because of something I know. Because of something I can say, or because of something I can do.

I don’t pray well. Its a thing forgotten often until I break and start shouting blubbering curses to the man upstairs. But when I do, I pray my daughter keeps her heroes. I pray this for every child. I pray this for the child I was.

I hope at some point I can see past the villains, and start seeing the heroes in those I should. Hope that I will see beyond possibilities and potential for hurt. Hope I can restore to some degree that faith in humanity, and maybe restore it in someone else too.

*****

If you’ve read my posts over the past month or two, you might have gathered that there’s a specific person in my mind when I write. If you read M’Lady and Her Jester you will know the background. This post is where she is in her words. She asked me to post this. I left it unedited. She said I could comment…

M’Lady,
Perhaps you will never quite learn to trust. *sigh* The cynical old b****rd in me says trusting “humanity” is for suckers. Humanity will always let you down but, there are rare humans that you can trust…and they will sometimes let you down, too. You are trying, though. You are searching for a way to find what was stolen from you. You are willing to face your fears. You are willing to accept that not every person is a person that hurt you. That you are willing, in spite of your fears and your past, gives me hope that you will succeed. It will take time. It will be hard.
M’Lady, you reached out to me. You took my trust and, however far from you, my love. You tried to run from those and, when it came to accept or reject, choose to accept, no matter how those scared you. I know you are not confident that you will ever be “healed” but, for now, on this part of our path, trust my confidence in you. There will be days, in some distant future, where fear will come back but, by then, you will know it for what it is and it won’t harm you.

I know it isn’t much but, here’s the hand of a friend to walk your path with you. *offers hand*

With love,
M’Lady’s Jester

Are You Effing Stupid?

Are you effing stupid?

Do you blame a bank for being robbed? If you don’t…

Do you really believe a rapist picked her because he thought she was a slut? Do you think that he saw her dressed that way and it made him want to rape her?…or is it because you want some excuse to blame her and not look into your own soul and peer at your own weaknesses?

One of the people I love has been subjected to this…and more…

The worst part of convincing yourself that she somehow deserved it is that by the repeating SHE  starts to believe it. She starts to think she’s in the wrong…That is the part of your bulls**t that really is disgusting. That you try to use your words to convince her that she earned RAPE.

You know that dispassionate part where I can try to step back, this isn’t it. Slut shaming subjects the victim to the crime over and over. It revictimizes. It degrades. It tears people down when they most need building up. Piss on the lot of you.

I’ll take HER side every effing time. I’ll defend her right to dress how she pleases, sleep with whoever she consents to and however often she desires…and if you blame her or attack her, I’ll laugh while she leaves you. I’ll stand with her and you may go f**k yourself…

 

M’Lady and Her Jester

I have something to write. I don’t know where or how to begin. Do I begin at her beginning, her middle, or now?

I have a friend that I love. I think of her by many names, the one that fits here is M’Lady and I am her Jester. As such, I am allowed to speak the truth. The lowliest member of the court may be the most honest…this is the now…

In the middle, she was married to a boy that feared her. He feared her mind. He feared his own weakness in the face of her strength…and he made her pay for his fear and weakness by raping her in the guise of marriage. He inflicted pain and humiliation on her and convinced her that she was to blame. He resented her past and her present. He told her that if she didn’t like what he was doing, he could bring another man to do it to her, He called it love and didn’t realize that it was hate. He convinced her to love her rapist…and she believed his lies and abuse. He taught her to lie to avoid worse pain. She thought she had somehow earned his actions and deserved them…

In her beginning, she thought she was a “badass”. She became promiscuous at an early age. Too young, some would say. Her Jester believes her life is HER’S and no one’s to judge save for her.  She paid, through the years by being bullied and shamed. Her reaction was, “if y’all think that’s bad, check this out”…and paid with more scorn and derision, “slut shaming”. To her credit, M’Lady would do it over the same way, sparing herself none of the pain that was to come because she has grown and learned through it.

…and now for the words of the Jester…

M’Lady, you did no wrong. Your youth and enjoyment of sex gave no cause for what happened later.

Your middle is not excused by any prior action of yours. There is no excuse that can be made, no justification given for a rapist. No amount of fear, shaming, or resentment of you excuses coercion or forcible rape. That you survived and escaped is a testament to your strength. That you became the person your Jester knows and loyally serves proves that strength. That you kept the light in your eyes for the Jester to find, makes your rapist even weaker because, no matter how he tried, he could not dim them.

In your present, M’Lady, you have so recently escaped the middle so listen to the words of the Jester. You did no wrong. You are not to blame, not then and not now. There should be no shame in you for being the person you are. If you were the person you came to believe, your Jester would not be here. That society and your rapist would use your past to excuse your middle speaks of them, not you…

M’Lady, trust the words of your Jester. You are worth being loved. You are one of the finest human beings I have ever known. You have your scars, we all do. You have your weaknesses and bits of inner darkness, only the weak fear them in others and refuse to believe their own. Your innocence, after all you have been through, gives your Jester cause for hope and proves his affection and love are not misplaced. That you would allow these words to be written proves that you will survive stronger than before.

*****

Slut Shaming is never an excuse. What she does with her body is her choice. Who she sleeps with and when she chooses to is no reason to excuse rape. It never was. It never will be. If you can not accept that there is ZERO excuse for rape or coercion, then it isn’t her that deserves shame, it is you.

I am in no way by the phrasing making light of the subject. It is FAR too close to home. The only way for me to touch this topic, rape within the confines of marriage and slut shaming, is to write in the third person and as the Jester. If I were to write the words in my heart, the hatred I have for the ex, I suspect it would be a crime or perceived as a threat and that is not intended as she will not allow that. There are very few humans in the world I love, perhaps 5 not related by blood, M’Lady is one.