update: god hates ugly – it’s true

the cops came to my house this afternoon to take my statement and make sure i wasn’t just some crazy making stuff up. i was pretty out of it, though. i couldn’t remember where i’d put my purse or anything. at least i was dressed.

the cop who took my statement said unfortunately he probably couldn’t do anything, because it was a misdemeanor offense and he wasn’t there to see it. i said i understood. but i just wanted to get the report in. what if he was an abusive boyfriend or had anger management problems in some other area and never went to jail for it? at least this way it’d be on the record that he’d done something out of wack in the first place. i have a feeling you don’t just throw things at strangers without having other problems somewhere in your life. maybe it was an isolated incident, but i doubt it.

in any case, the cop called back later and left a message. he’s going to issue a summons on the guy. i just have to go into the police substation tomorrow and file a victim’s report, and dwayne has to file a witness report. maybe by then my eye will be all swollen. (i doubt it.) then i’ll get extra points. just kidding.

but i was crying when i called it in. it really shook me up. it seems so small and pithy, but …

a few years ago i had a similar thing happen to me, only much scarier and with a friend. i wanted to call the cops but none of my friends who were with me would let me. when i called the cops the next day, they said i couldn’t file a report because i hadn’t done it the night it happened (which i know now is bullshit — i should have just called back and talked to someone else). i felt completely helpless and unsupported.

i’m really glad dwayne is here this time, looking things up and encouraging me to do the right thing. so what if i provoked him to some extent? i didn’t deserve to be assaulted. you don’t fight words with hitting, that’s something we learned in kindergarten, isn’t it?

now i wish i could go back to five years ago and prosecute the guy who threatened to kill me and broke down my door (which he never replaced). i’d feel a lot better knowing that if he ever did something like that again, he’d have to do time in jail, or go to counseling. or i’d just feel better knowing someone was watching out for me, even if it is just the police doing their job.

it’s nice to feel safe. and it’s nice to feel like there are people on your side, even if you make mistakes (like talking too much).


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