Not So Dreamy McDreamy

Whether it was from my first post…or the name of my blog…we have established that I identify as a feminist. This does not mean I don’t get dressed up, go to the bar, or allow men to buy me drinks; however, it does mean I expect R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

This past weekend was my roommate’s birthday. We went out in a group of single 20 somethings to a bar downtown. We were all dolled up and had a couple beers before arriving early to this cute piano bar. We put in our song requests and I bought myself a cranberry and vodka. We started to dance to throwback Britney Spears and Spice Girls’ songs in a pack of girls like you are supposed to at this age. I felt so carefree after a week of stress.

Like clockwork, around midnight the bachelor party guys started to swoop in. Balding men with wedding bands around their fingers attached themselves to our backs, offering to spin us around the dance floor. Soon after, a young Indian man approached me explaining that he attends a prestigious school where he studies neurosurgery. Instead of aweing over this as he expected, I asked him if he had ever seen Grey’s Anatomy (which happens to be my favorite show). He replied, “no, but they call me McDreamy.”

McDreamy offered to buy me a shot and then we awkwardly danced for a few minutes. As we danced I felt his finger creep down the outside of the front of my skirt. My thought process was…is he touching my…maybe that’s an accident…nope, that’s on purpose. I ended up SWERVING, escaping from McDreamy’s hands for the rest of the night. After last call, I gathered on the sidewalk with my friends, waiting for our Uber. Unfortunately, McDreamy spotted me outside and began walking toward me. As he went in for a hug he said “it was nice to meet you.” In that moment he squeezed my ass and went in for a surprise kiss attack (I’m convinced he did this because he knew it wasn’t reciprocated). As I immediately pulled my face away he smiled in this creepy “I know I just forced myself on you and you can’t do anything about it” way that made me feel helpless in the moment. It all happened so fast and then he was gone..before I could slap him or react in a way I wanted to…and trust me when I say I thought about a dozen different ways I wish I would have responded, ranging from drop kicking him on the sidewalk to giving him an informative lecture on how to treat a woman–or a human being for that matter.

Was it “just” a kiss? I don’t know, maybe…but to me it was someone forcing themselves on me while I was trying to have a good time with my friends. I don’t care if I’m wearing  a crop top, a short skirt, or I accept a drink…it does not mean you have permission to touch me. I worry about “McDreamy” becoming a neurosurgeon in the future. How can he be trusted with patients’ brains when I can’t trust him with my lips?

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