Our Love Story is My Favorite

On By janewrites2020In Uncategorized2 Comments

I know I’ve never fully told the story of Jack and I’s first kiss. I know I gave a gist of it, and it was really vague. Well, our one year anniversary is coming soon and I move back to school on Sunday so, I figured I would write this down for you. The night I met Jack, I was having a little pizza party with my RA and two friends. My sister left campus for the weekend and my roommate at the time did as well. Before the pizza party, however, I went to dump my trash out, and across from the trash shoot was a dorm room with the door open. Inside the room was a man I was familiar with. Derek, was Jack’s roommate, and he was “familiar” with my roommate.

I stood in the doorway and placed my trash can on the floor as I spoke to Derek, in a conversation in which his roommate Jack, a stranger at the time, chimed in; on my side of course. However, when Derek became homophobic and questioned my sexuality, I left in a hurry, of course leaving behind my trash can. I should also note, this occurred on Friday, of Labor Day weekend, and Derek was going home for the 3 day weekend.

Anyways, I storm out, angry. Turns out that when this entire blowup happened, Jack got the idea that I was a lesbian. Anyways. I go to my RA’s room, have my pizza party and go back to my room to throw something away; only to see that I don’t have my trash can. So I swallow my pride, and grimace the entire way down the hall to go get my trash can. I knock on the door, expecting Derek to answer, when to my surprise, Jack does. He says

“Oh, you must be here for this.” He held out my trash can and I blush slightly and work up the nerve to ask if I can come in and hang out. He invites me in and we sit close together, watching things on the computer together and getting to know one another. We moved from his desk to his bed, as I sat beside him and we spoke more. Me about my depression, him about his hard life. And he said something that has since slipped from my mind, and it was so sweet. I leaned in to kiss his cheek, and he turned his head. Our lips connected, and I pulled away and gasped. But, I leaned in and kissed him again, and then I hid my face in his chest. We stayed frozen for what seemed like an eternity and then he moved to stand up. He drank some water and said we will see where it goes.

By this time, it’s 3 in the morning, and he says he’s going to bed. I decide I am too, and I moved over and slept in his bed with him. There was a comfortable silence as we laid together, and I slowly reached my way up to his lips so I could kiss him in the dark. When I finished, I cuddled close to him and we drifted off to sleep.

We’ve been together ever since.

-Jane

To All the Boys Who Didn’t Love Me

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To all the boys who didn’t love me:

I understand that you may not love me, I’m fat, but that’s okay. I’m happy. You didn’t love me because I was a “bitch,” but today I stand and empower young women. You didn’t love me because I wouldn’t give you any part of my body, and when I refused, you told me it was ugly anyways. You didn’t love me because I tried to offer my brain, but you weren’t interested. Or maybe you did love me, until you found someone better.

I don’t hate or condemn you for not loving me, you didn’t have to, and I’m glad you didn’t want to. You placed me in these categories which define me only in your mind.

When I see the few of you around, which is rare, I smile and greet you, making small talk. One or two of you message me on Facebook or keep up with my instagram. I’m fine with speaking to you, and relating, sharing stories if we have the time. But something makes me sad; when you point out how happy I look, or how you’re happy about my engagement, and when you make remarks about how I could have been the “one.” That’s not fair to me..

You don’t get to decide that I could have been the one after you decided you didn’t love me to begin with. Are you truly sad that you let me go, or are you sad that you see how beautiful I am when I’m happy with the love of my life?

I fell in love with someone who tells me I’m worth loving every single day.

-Jane

To the Parents of Brock Turner

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To the parents of Brock Turner

I’ve read your letters and comments, begging the judge not to be harsh on the boy, that it’s “too steep a price” to pay for what he’s done. How is 6 months in jail and a life time sex offender status too steep? Do you literally process what he’s done? He took a drunk woman, who LEGALLY CANNOT give consent, to a dumpster and “digitally raped” her. Though she was unconscious, he assumed a hand on his back was support to continue. He VIOLATED a woman who did not say “yes, let’s have consensual sex.” He took her to a secluded location, pulled her panties down, and her dress up and violated her. There was dirt and leaves in her vagina. Mmm, dirt in her vagina sounds consensual.

How can you support someone like that? Someone who has “never done anything wrong?” Until now, that is. How can you beg and plead for him to not go to jail because it “would ruin his life.” Do you think about the life he ruined? The woman’s life? Did you once think about her? Did you ever put yourself in her shoes, and wonder what she must be feeling? Do you have a daughter? Did you think about how you would feel if it was YOUR daughter behind the dumpster and someone was assaulting and raping her? Did you think about that? I’m sure you wouldn’t be begging the judge to give the assailant a light sentence. All you are thinking about is whether your son is going to be “ruined” for life and now he can’t get into school, and he can’t swim anymore. Boo hoo.

Did you know his victim is ruined for life? She is slandered in the media for being a “intoxicated, unconscious woman.” Whether she was intoxicated or not does not matter, she is of age, Brock however, is not. He’s 20. He took advantage of a young woman and fucked up her life. Brock isn’t his “happy go lucky” self anymore? What about her? She’s petrified and traumatized, but you are upset because your son doesn’t eat ribeye steaks anymore; how tragic.

I find it sad how you have no remorse for the pain your son has inflicted on the woman he RAPED. The lot of you only care about yourselves. Did you know there was a black man with the SAME exact charges as Brock and he got 6 years? Yeah, and you think 6 months in prison, but an early release after 3 is harsh. And to the judge, what the fuck is wrong with you? You “don’t see him as a danger.” HE RAPED AN UNCONSCIOUS WOMAN.

Do you people not think? Put yourself in the woman’s shoes, who woke up in the hospital to find she was raped, and now she’s terrified every day of her life. But no, the only reason you parents are sad is because you’re now in tremendous debt and your son won’t get a degree to show for it, and frankly he doesn’t deserve a degree from Stanford or any other school. He ruined someone’s life, and HE ruined his own. You have no one to blame for Brock’s actions but Brock himself. You can put a rapist in a speedo and an IVY league school, but he’s still a rapist.

Do you want to be found, raped and naked, near a dumpster?

-Jane

Jane vs. Nature

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Sorry I have been MIA, summer has started, and been started for about a month, but I’ve been working, and I am currently at a feminist retreat. That’s right, I’m in the middle of the fucking woods with 19 other girls, roughly my age and we are educating ourselves on important female issues.

This retreat has been interesting to say the least, but for the most part I am enjoying it. I’m in a bad mood however, so I’m a little crabby at the moment. I sprained my ankle yesterday so I’ve been in some pain and one of the girls here struck me on a nerve. We are discussing sexual assault, and if you remember, I was sexually assaulted for a few years when I was younger. However this one girl insists on leaving the room when we discuss it because it upsets her. Granted I don’t know if she’s ever been assaulted; however I feel like if you run from the problem, you’re not going to contribute to ending it.

I am internally frustrated to the point that I could fucking scream. Every girl attending here seems to think that she is an expert feminist, one said listening to Beyonce is cultural appropriation and I literally just walked away from her. Like I can’t fucking believe some of the things that have been said and done here. Don’t get me wrong I guess I am a feminist, and I feel that I belong, but some of these girls have such a misconstrued idea and I can’t get a fucking moment alone. They are all shoved up my ass because I have a sprained ankle. Then two girls keep making lovey dovey eyes at each other and it’s like GAHHH.

I don’t know if I’m angsty, or hangry, but I have no idea. And I really don’t want to be bothered with anything and these ladies won’t leave me alone.

-Jane