I understand.

Really, I do. I've heard enough compliments to recognize the attraction I carry behind me. I can see why you needed to reach out and grab hold, like a mirage that might disappear as I round the next corner. I just implore you to imagine what a surprise it is for me. I quite literally can’t see you coming.

To my friend’s date who caught me by my ass in a trust fall outside Bogie’s Liquor– you do understand that falls in the category of “not to trust,” right? My friend, your date, was inside buying beer, and I became the annoying one for not letting it go. For trying to articulate to her why it bothered me. I hate being the annoying one. I was not flirting with you, but I do understand how my being friendly could be misinterpreted as such that you had to try your luck.

To the man downtown LA who went above and beyond trying to get his hand under my waistband– nice try. It was 8am so my headphones were in, my guard was down, but I felt your unwashed hand sliding down my back. I’m sorry I pushed you and shouted for you to stop, but I was genuinely startled. Lucky for you though, no one else noticed or heard me or thought it was a big enough deal. I was on my way to the European Wax Center, too, so when I told people I was assaulted that morning, I had to tell them it was while running an errand to get the hair ripped off my bikini line. I just would have liked to have been able to keep that to myself.

To the man who followed me into my apartment building and grazed his fingers over my ass— were you trying to see where I lived? I noticed you behind me, so I sped up, swerved to my building, and ran up the stairs. It was the middle of the day, so surely you weren’t following me, surely this wasn’t about me. Yet, you reached the front door on my heels. I asked what business you had in the building, and you said you were going to the second floor but followed me down the first. I stood firm to let you pass me, but if I had gotten out my keys, would you have tried to invite yourself through my doorway? I felt the backs of your fingers brushing across my ass as you passed me, to which I said, “Did you just touch my ass?” You said no, but I would have preferred an honest “yes, thank you.” The camera over my neighbor’s garage has footage of you following me as I sped up and swerved and you did the same on my trail. I wondered for days and weeks if you were coming back. Except, of course you weren’t. I had been so rude to you, so uninviting, so unlikeable. I looked you in the eyes, I saw you, and I was venomous. Please know, this wasn’t just about you. It was about my safety in my own home at large. I know the ways to break into my apartment, which outer doors don’t shut properly, which windows just need a good shove. When I go to sleep each night, I turn on a murder podcast, close my eyes, and hope for the best.

Sorry, this is about my ass, not my fear of being murdered while sleeping in my own home. Regardless, please just ask next time. I might surprise you.

Yours truly,

Well, you don’t know my name, so no need to sign it here