You Would Think I’d Never Flown Before (Part 2 – He’s Always In Charge)

April 18, 2017

Picking up from yesterday –

[I know we’re tangenting from flying here, but all this stuff feels relevant and important to me…]

Aaaaanyway, continuing to try to explain something that to me feels so hard to explain –

I just constantly – not just on the plane, but everywhere – felt like he was “in charge.” Even as we were in the train station (after the plane) and he pressed the buttons for me on the machine to buy my tickets to Penn Station, I had to calm myself.

“Okay, Aurora. It’s possible he’s doing this not because he thinks he’s superior and always has to ‘take care’ of you, but because he’s very familiar with this airport, so he’s faster at this specific thing… Also, you are very sleepy. And that makes people operate not at full capacity… So maybe this isn’t an ‘in charge’ thing. Maybe he’s trying to be kind to the groggy girl by doing the thing he can do on autopilot.”
But I don’t think that is why he took over my machine, pushing me aside to do it himself. It was all, always, an “in charge thing.”

Even how I’d try to sleep against the seat in front of me (as I do often do on planes), but he’d pull me in to lay on him. And that part’s fine. I felt a little weird about intimate stuff, especially in public. But… status quo, we’re pushing to get back to the status quo, baby!
So, putting his hands on me, or leaning me on him I thought was fine. I wasn’t gonna ask him to stop being into me as that seemed like a road to “normalcy,” which I thought was what was gonna save me and take away flashbacks and nightmares and everything.
Anyway, enough of that tangent. The point is, when he’d lead me into him… then he’d take off my hat. And I’d put it back on. And he’d take it off because I’m “always covering my beautiful hair” or whatever. But I *always* sleep with a hat on a plane. I like to pull it down to keep light out of my eyes to make it easier to sleep.

But it didn’t matter what I wanted, or what was comfortable for me, because it never mattered what I wanted or what made me comfortable. It matter what he wanted, or what girls were “supposed” to be like, or if I matched up with all the very exact and specific details he had in his head of what a quasi-relationship was “supposed” to be and, the role a woman played in it.

And it might sound “fun” or “convenient” in some instances. Like, “What? I never have to put my bag above my head again, or order my own food (since he’ll pick it and order for you), or press any buttons on machines [etc etc]. How easy.” But think about the fact that you’re a grown adult person used to doing all that stuff, enjoying feeling autonomous. And think about the fact that you never get to reciprocate it. “Oh, I’ll just get his bag this time.” No you won’t, lest someone on the airplane view him as less of a man for “letting” a woman do that.

There’s a reason there are whole movies about super rich people who are like, “I wanna live! I want to go amongst the world!” It’s ’cause nobody wants to be babied their whole entire life and be “protected” from living or what have you.

And some people out there might be thinking I’m being “too 3rd wave feminism” or whatever. Like, “Daaaang. Girl can’t even let a man carry her bag.”

But can we just think for a second about who I am? I know that even those of you who’ve read every blog post over the past 5 or so years aren’t with me everyday. You don’t know who I am outside of this. And even I’ve said as we’ve been talking about all this that I have purposely not talked about relationships on here. That hadn’t interested me at all. That part of my life, generally (other than all this mess), I’ve always considered private (and probably will in the future). So, you may not know how I am on a date or traveling with a man.

But if you have been reading the blog all these years, you at least kinda know me. Do you think of me as someone who, back when I lived, in LA would be some raging misandrist who’d yell at a man for holding my bag? Or do you think that I was like, “Whoa! You’re driving me door to door instead of me taking an uber. Talk about some princess treatment up in this joint! Oh me, oh my!” [It was the second one.]

Do you not think that I talked about a man in LA going out of his way to make vegan freaking dinner (when he’s a meat-eater) for months? (Heck, I still talk about how much I loved that!)

I love to be appreciative. I love to put on my little imaginary tiara and be [*tilts head up toward the sun, and puts a silly smile on, and holds hands on my heart*] loooved and cared for.

To my knowledge (as much as I can remember), this has never been a problem with a man before – especially because even if somehow anyone has ever crossed the line of kinda babying me a little toooooooo much, I give them a smile with a tiny laugh, maybe a little wink, and flirty nudge and say, “You know I know how to buy my own subway ticket right?” And then we have a little laugh and maybe even a little kiss about it. People have always backed down, if I push just a little. It’s never had to be a fight. I’d never been yelled at just because I don’t want to sit in a tram that has boatloads of room. I’ve been allowed to be a person – which doesn’t feel like a lot to ask for.

Aaaaanyway, after aaall of this, I will finish this out tomorrow!


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