My veteran subscribers, you already know this, but for any of my newer subscribers, one of my dear high school friends passed away two months ago from a one in a million random illness. Friday was his birthday. The first birthday we wouldn't get to spend with him of many, many birthdays that should have come. Going in, I knew that celebrating that night was going to be a tad emotional, and I think many of us thought it would be easier to just drink ourselves silly. And, so we did. Earlier in the evening, when sober, we joked about ending the night at the karaoke bar in which we ended many drunken nights from our twenties.
Unfortunately, the night didn't finish in the grandiose way, in which it should have, because we did go to that amazing, trashy, never changes karaoke bar and it should have ended with me going home, waking Adam up blabbing nonsense or running into the bed post, and then falling into that deep, drunken sleep you get only when you've had far more than you should. To be fair, I did wake Adam up, but I don't remember that part. I don't remember even going inside. Or going to bed. I do remember waking up on the bathroom floor though.
When the night ended, I was ready to walk home from the bar, but my friend yelled over that his Uber was here. So, I got into the front seat. After we had started driving, my friend threw a twenty up front and had the driver cancel his (already paid for) fare to drive us home. He cancelled his GPS, and listened to my friend's directions home. I remember laughing a lot while they were in the car. When we got to my friends' place, all three of them got out and tried to encourage me to come hot-tubbing. It was already wayyyyy past my bedtime and I think I mumbled something about being really drunk and wanting to go to bed, so we said our good byes. We start driving along, and me, the awkward girl in the front seat, asking the driver how long he has been with Uber. He answers, and then, he turns and looks right at me.
"Why were you talking about your boobs? I like that."
I reply, confused, "What do you mean, you like that?"
"Your boobs! I like them!" and starts laughing. I remember tensing up and pushing my weight away from him and into my car door. He continues on about how "nice" they are, and I begin to internally freak out, but I am physically FROZEN. And for any of you who know me, I consider myself to be a strong female, a huge feminist, and completely intolerant of misogynist, sexist, douchebag, fuckboys. But, I am FROZEN, as he discusses MY BODY while I'm sitting there, bracing myself for if he tries to touch me. I don't even know if I was breathing. I realize I have my phone in my hand and immediately text my boyfriend asking for help when I get dropped off, and the guy friends I was with, to give him a bad rating and report him (please recall the drunkenness level at this point, I don't remember that my friend took someone else's Uber until the next day after texting them to get information).
I get dropped off, but I don't remember getting out of the car, walking to the door or unlocking it, but clearly I did, because later, I woke up on the bathroom floor. I spent Saturday collecting information about everything that happened, what kind of car, what colour it was, what time we got picked up, etc, etc... so that I can file a report with Uber. I planned to do it the next day because I am half in shock, half an emotional disaster. I spent a lot of Saturday crying. And then I felt embarrassed for my non-reaction over some guy saying gross things to me. And then I felt ashamed. And then I was ANGRY. Angry actually doesn't cover it; I am FURIOUS. In the meantime, a police officer friend of mine has reached out to me to encourage me to report it, regardless of the fact that I didn't have his name or his license plate number. He tells me that this guy could already be in the system, and maybe this is just more information that can be added to his file. Maybe the driver will lose his job. Maybe it will end up on his record. And so, my shame lessens.
On Sunday, I try to get in touch with Uber, which is essentially impossible. Google their email address or phone number. There isn't one. So, I reach out over facebook and ask them to call me. They ask for more details over facebook, because customer service via the phone is only available in certain locations (I guess they don't have a nation-wide plan!). So, I recount part of the night over facebook, and then over email, and I ask for information about the driver so that I can file a report with them and with the police. Completely shut down. They cite privacy policies and so, with begrudging understanding of this, I ask them what they will do on THEIR end, because they can identify the driver within their own company and discipline. They don't even answer. They didn't even ask me if I was okay.
So, I call the police with what I have. It's not much, but it's my story, and there's not a chance I'm letting this guy say (or worse!) what he did to me to someone else. The police are super helpful and kind, but because he didn't physically touch me, it's not considered an offense. I'm sorry, quoi?! The officer even went on to tell me that he could basically say anything he wanted to me, and they can't get Uber to divulge his information. Barf. But, now, there's a file with his description, with his car, with his job. And so if anyone else encounters him, and I pray to whoever you believe in that no one does, they'll be able to potentially match our stories and have more of a case.
So, where did all of this get me? He's still on the road. He's still driving. He still has the opportunity to be a disgusting piece of shit to drunken women every night. But, it got me something. It gave me STRENGTH. It showed me that I CAN stand up for myself, and maybe not in that awful moment, but I ROSE into my strength and I advocated for myself, I know exactly where my boundaries lie, and what we, as women, and those who identify as such, should NEVER have to fucking put up with. So, if you have been in a situation like this, or worse, know that you are not alone. And if you didn't report it, you are STILL strong because you are HERE. And you are loved. And you are worthy. And you are fucking worth advocating for. Don't ever forget that.
So much love, thank you for reading.
And if you still need more love, here's an extra xox.
Love,
M