Two days ago, I was in a cargo lift with a man and it suddenly hit me that I didn’t go into a panic attack. Well well well, I’m such a grown-up now. *beams*
Rewind to the year I was 16. He was 18. Had my first boyfriend, nothing serious (we didn’t even last three months). At least that’s what I thought. From the word Go, he was one horny bastard. I blame myself for picking him based on his looks and his seemingly cool demeanour. I blame myself for not getting to know him better before getting into a relationship (we went on one group date and ended up together lol). But I thank my lucky stars I was the Mother of All Prudes or I wouldn’t bat an eyelid if I was a mother to four kids or the village bicycle by now.
He was always looking for opportunities to paw me or make out. He was my first boyfriend. My palms dripped with sweat the first time we held hands. He used to bring me to take the cargo lift instead of the normal one at his work place. And I found out why. That cargo lift was like it was built in the Ice Age. It was motherfucking slow. But it gave him many opportunities to have his sneaky ways with me. And I just didn’t know how to say no or sucker punch him.
So even though our time together was extremely short-lived, he traumatised me on so many levels. I had this irrational fear of cargo lifts and refused to ride in them. If I had no choice, I would fall extremely quiet and wring my hands till the doors reopened again. My friends from art school used to mock-threaten to drag me into one if I didn’t stop annoying them.
You can imagine my surprise when I realised I’m no longer crazily paranoid about riding in one. Nearly whooped with joy. I also find it bat shit nuts that it’s taken me more than a decade to overcome this fear. But as the saying goes, better late than never right?
I had to break up with him citing distraction to my studies as a reason. It wasn’t a lie, I had national exams that year and he was a school drop-out and had too much time on his hands and we spent way too much time on the phone even though I said I needed to go study. But the bigger reason was that I was growing increasingly afraid of him and what he would do to me.
As much as I hardly can say no, I’m glad I had the balls to reject him when he refused to let me go. I thank my lucky stars and prostrate to the heavens that I can look back on this lame paranoia and laugh about it now. And even more so that these threats will no longer work anymore.