Honestly, I do get concerned about my partner’s drinking sometimes. I’d be a lot more worried if it happened more often, but he really doesn’t seem to have a lot of brakes once he does get started.

(And, as I have commented before, that also seems to be a major socially acceptable pressure release valve to the point that he can even talk much about what’s been bothering him. I have plenty of my own shit going on, but being wound that tight can’t be good for a person even without overdoing the booze to cope.)

And pub culture here really does not help with that. Thinking again with the extended pub crawl with people from work. After several hours with an open bar at that work dinner 😱

I don’t even want to bring it up unless it should turn into a more frequent thing. Which it hasn’t since we got together. But, he was in quite a shape getting home tonight.

clatterbane:

I am unfortunately reminded again of that one Norwegian dude some years back who tried to hit on me by going on about how much the old Norse liked big strong women! Complete with arm squeezes and his retellings of a couple of parts of sagas.

It at least had the benefit of novelty. Never heard anything quite like that before or again.

He was pretty drunk at the time, but I still had to wonder how this approach had worked out for him in the past. (Because it didn’t sound like the first try.) Obviously not great at taking hints, but geez.

Funnier in retrospect. At the time I had to get amused, but the situation was also extra awkward because he was one of a few people over at our house and I couldn’t just get away without making a scene. Maybe less hesitant to do that now, but hey.

I don’t remember if that time the guy was living in London yet, or if it was on a work trip. In any case, the extent of his relationship with Mr. C seemed to be “vaguely friendly Fellow Scandawegian Tech Person”.

Anyway, he was living in London when I made the mistake of going along when they met up at a pub a while after that. So, he acted low-boundary creepy most of the evening–before inviting us both to stay over at his new place sometime soon!

With eyebrow-waggling levels of subtlety. I think he did actually say something about putting on some music and seeing what happened 🙄

Mr. C seemed to take that invitation at platonic face value a lot more than I did. Let’s just put it that way. I was just glad that was framed as a future invitation, and he wasn’t trying to get us over there right then. Awkward enough as it was.

There’s no real problem with asking, I suppose. Even if people have not indicated any obvious interest whatsoever up to that point.

But, there are ways and then there are ways. That guy’s ways were low-boundary creepy enough in general that I have just avoided him since then.

I am unfortunately reminded again of that one Norwegian dude some years back who tried to hit on me by going on about how much the old Norse liked big strong women! Complete with arm squeezes and his retellings of a couple of parts of sagas.

It at least had the benefit of novelty. Never heard anything quite like that before or again.

He was pretty drunk at the time, but I still had to wonder how this approach had worked out for him in the past. (Because it didn’t sound like the first try.) Obviously not great at taking hints, but geez.

Funnier in retrospect. At the time I had to get amused, but the situation was also extra awkward because he was one of a few people over at our house and I couldn’t just get away without making a scene. Maybe less hesitant to do that now, but hey.

Reminded again of one story from our drama teacher in high school, which I thought was pretty funny then and appreciate in some different ways now.

She grew up in Baltimore, and got a rather startling introduction to some cultural differences not that long after moving to a small town in Southwest Virginia to take a teaching job.

One day, she looked out and saw some guy just casually walking down the street, carrying a shotgun. And…nobody else seemed to notice or care? There was certainly no screaming or sirens. It was very weird.

At least she did take a cue from the total lack of alarm from some neighbors who were out in their yard, and didn’t call the cops herself. But, you couldn’t have paid her to go out there for a while, just in case.

Definitely not in Baltimore anymore!

Yeah, my automatic assumption in that case would be that he was probably taking it to show a friend, or something like that. Barely worth noticing unless the person is acting squirrelly. Just not something I would have been that surprised to see.

But yeah, very different experiences and expectations in Hillbillyland compared to most urban areas and some other parts of the country.

Not too surprisingly, I’ve ended up disconcerted in the other direction on multiple occasions since moving to Greater London.

Including when my uncle and his family came for a visit when I’d been here a couple of years.

While they were doing touristy stuff, they went to the London Eye. And everyone involved got a bit of a surprise when they went through security to get in, and my baby cousin (probably 15 at that point) pulled out a totally standard pocket knife to leave there if they insisted.

I think that may have even been the same model (with under a 4" blade). Like I said, a very standard type of pocket knife back home. I was mostly surprised he was the only one of the family carrying one that day, because they’re handy tools and that’s just kinda what you do, but yeah. (And honestly I still usually do, aware that someone might eventually turn it into an issue. ETA: Though that’s less likely to happen, not being a young man.)

The security guy just couldn’t believe that (a) a kid had this Big Scary Knife at all, and (b) his crazy American family didn’t seem at all concerned about it. In the end, they didn’t totally confiscate the knife, but he did get some stern warnings to leave it wherever they were staying from now on. Which I think he actually did, because jfc.

They were amused afterwards, to say the least. I wasn’t along that day, but I can imagine.

Some pretty different norms, to say the least.

clatterbane:

“I don’t have the best record of detaching myself from work.”

– Chatty drunk Mr. C a few minutes ago

“…Now imagine someone is paying me to be the most suspicious bastard in the world.”

Context: Why he refuses to do information security anymore, partly because he is good at it. It apparently eats his brain, and really really won’t stay in the office. Better to recognize that, yeah. This came up again tonight, and he noped away.

“I don’t have the best record of detaching myself from work.”

– Chatty drunk Mr. C a few minutes ago

“Real Abuse”

clatterbane:

I was also reminded of how someone doesn’t even need to be physically abusive to be a real piece of work. Especially after a relationship breaks up.

See also: PSA links: Abuse, and taking care of yourself

The post I was reminded of there doesn’t seem to be around anymore, and I can’t find a cached version. ( He didn’t lay a finger on me.) But, also highly recommended: “Why does she stay with that jerk?”, which also touches on that point.

My biodad did try to hit my mom once, a couple of months after they got married. They were arguing about something, and he swung at her. That was in the kitchen, so she pretty much reflexively picked up the closest thing: a big heavy stoneware mixing bowl. And broke it over his head.

She was also a good bit bigger than he was (as he kept getting nasty about), and she knew how to fight. He was afraid to try anything like that again.

He was also physically afraid of pretty much her whole family, for the same reasons. They just wouldn’t tolerate that shit, and he wasn’t a very popular guy after a while anyway, with the ways he would talk to people.

They stayed married for about 12 more years after that incident, until I was 6.

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t still abusive. He just had to get less blatant and sneakier with it…and save the physical abuse for people he thought he could get away with hitting.

(I didn’t get it until after the divorce, when she and other relatives who would have disapproved weren’t around. My stepbrother got a lot worse, on a regular basis, as a much safer target. I witnessed more bad stuff than I personally got there. The emotional abuse was still the huge problem. Probably for J. too.)

And that definitely doesn’t mean that the person can’t be dangerous, as discussed in one of the first links (here). They might actually be more dangerous, in a sneaky and more likely to get away with it sort of style.

In that particular case, he didn’t grow up in a household where any of that abusive behavior was treated as remotely acceptable. And his own family were shocked when they found out he was treating people that way. He still managed to pick it up somewhere. 😐

But yeah, it can be harder to recognize mainly verbal and other emotional abuse as Real Abuse. It’s a lot more obvious when somebody is beating on people they’re supposed to care about.

I also grew up hearing a lot of endorsement of the classic Iron Skillet Method of dealing with abusers. Not only does that often flip over into victim blaming, it doesn’t even necessarily work. Even if the person is afraid to lay a hand on you after that.

Very much like its companion, “Why didn’t you kick him in the balls?” victim blaming.

I really do wish it were that simple sometimes, to get abusive patterns of behavior stopped. It really isn’t.

You can bet I also learned to fight, and not to tolerate any attempts at physical violence. That doesn’t really help if you’re dealing with other types of abuse or predatory behavior.

(Also tying back in with another post from today: Ronin bouncers, and risk management)

Twitter

I’m planning to stick around here until further notice, at least.

But, if anyone wants to add me on Twitter, it’s @Urocyon

I haven’t been spending much time over there for a while, though that will likely change. If/when I get active accounts going elsewhere, I’ll try to update this. Please let me know in replies if you’d like tagged on that.

Thinking about some family stuff earlier, I was reminded again of the frequent comments about appearance that just seemed normal at the time. Including, of course, about weight–but hardly limited to that.

It was pretty much impossible to get through a day around my mother without hearing unsolicited (and often frankly extremely inappropriate) çomments on your appearance and other people’s too. Besides insecurities about her own looks. My grandmother was even worse and more judgmental about it, especially around body stuff.

Besides just reflecting piss-poor boundaries, as came up in a slightly different context a while back:

At any rate, no damned wonder I was the fourth generation that I know of on that side of the family to end up with the Family OCD partly coming out through a pretty serious ED.

Less unusual type of experience than it should be, unfortunately.

Anyway, I was freshly impressed again at the contrast to living with my partner, and how glad I am not to have to listen to that all the freaking time.

Mr. C’s approach is better summed up in Jingo:

She was familiar with the syndrome. They said they wanted a soulmate and helpmeet but sooner or later the list would include a skin like silk and a chest fit for a herd of cows. Except for Carrot. That was almost… almost one of the annoying things about him. She suspected he wouldn’t mind if she shaved her head or grew a beard. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t notice, he just wouldn’t mind, and for some reason that was very aggravating.

Pretty much the only comments Mr. C has ever made touching on my appearance at all in the 15 years since we got together have had more to do with my looking exhausted, overloaded, cold, and/or in a lot of pain. Very different thing, yeah.

(And he’s helped me use clippers on my head more than once. Judging by my biodad, I probably couldn’t grow a decent beard if my system did have a different hormone balance, but I doubt it would seriously bother Mr. C if I tried. My body, and if that’s what I want to do with it…)

At first, I did find it very disconcerting. Especially being so used to the constant unsolicited commentary from people close to me. (They wouldn’t even say it if they didn’t care, right? 😑)

Along with so much other healthier-boundary behavior and the lack of snarking to go along with it, I got concerned that it might be an “if you can’t say anything nice” type of thing. And how long could that last? 😓 The jerkbrain sent me into at least one ED relapse over it. But yeah, the other shoe never has dropped with that either.

I could still do with more validation sometimes, but that’s just the way he is. Looks really don’t seem nearly as important to him, and he seems to take the default approach of “of course you look fine, why wouldn’t you?”.

Not always the best combo with some carefully instilled insecurity problems which are hard to totally get past. But, that’s still so much easier to live with than constant judginess.

It’s been quite a while since I wore anything over like a 1" heel, anyway, because musculoskeletal problems. I never did wear particularly high heels that regularly.

But, I do find myself resenting not really having that option anymore without maybe doing myself some serious injury, thanks to diabetic foot bullshit.

(Similar with never reasonably being able to walk around barefoot anymore, which is something I’m a lot more likely to want to do in the first place 😒)

The “small” quality of life things can really pile up and get overwhelming sometimes.