By Brianna Green
If you caught the first part of this post in October, you’ll remember that one morning at 10 a.m. I blocked the number of a guy I had been seeing. Unfortunately, blocking him didn’t stop him from coming to my apartment later that night.
It was around 9:30 p.m. and I was wearing an oversized t-shirt, working on homework before heading off to bed. I heard a few knocks at my back door and froze for a minute. There’s no way it’s him, I thought to myself naively. But it was. I opened the door and let him inside. We talked and, at first, it sounded like he still wanted to get back together. I was confused, I was shaken, and I didn’t understand what was going on. I had texted some friends to tell them that he was at my apartment, and thankfully one of them showed up with their boyfriend. I talked to her outside for a few minutes, and she brought me back down to Earth. The situation was fucked up.
I told her I was okay and they reluctantly left. After I went back inside, I told him again that we should go separate ways, and things immediately went south. He started getting mean, saying that I was “cruel,” that I “should never be in a relationship,” and that I “have issues.” This was exactly what I feared would happen if I broke up with him in person. After the parade of insults, he claimed that he was happy he came to my apartment that night and he finally left.
Although he left voluntarily, over the next week I felt incredibly anxious at night. I had to check that all the doors and windows were shut and locked at least twice before going to bed. I was hyper vigilant walking from my door to the building door. I was constantly questioning myself: What did I do wrong? Was this all my fault?
Obviously, several things bother me about this encounter. First, my reaction: I was scared and I was playing it down. My instinct was to worry that I was being dramatic by telling people the story and taking a mental health day off from work and school after it happened. However, this is an unhealthy perspective; it’s not my (or your) fault if someone else decides to be a dangerous person. And it is not overdramatic to be considerate of your safety and mental health.
The second thing that really bothers me is the entitlement this man felt that led him to show up to my apartment, my space, and demand my time and attention — especially after I had made it clear that I did not want him there. Why do some people feel like they have the right to break someone’s boundaries and invade their space? This is unfortunately often a gender-equity issue. Keep an eye out for the last part of this series, where I will discuss this phenomenon.