Thank You (You Know Who You Are)
Thank you for showing me a deep, eternal truth about myself: I’m better than you are. I’m a better human and a better man.
I sometimes feel really low and vulnerable; a mere meat-puppet, a commodity. Like there’s little more to me than a well-placed “eeyup” to prove my dimention or relevance. I’m shit, is what I think sometimes. In showing me that that’s all I’m worth to you, you’ve proven to me that I still believe I’m more than that. In your exploitation of my indignity you’ve single handedly reminded me that dignity and self-worth remain strong voices in my inner life. And that these things are my strength. You’ve reminded me I’m strong. So: thanks.
I remember you, you know. I’d been drinking, I’ll admit, so it’s vague. I’d also just been working for thirteen hours so it was feeling nice to be cutting loose. You were in black I think, but honestly it could have been any colour. I remember zipping up my pants and turning from the urinal and seeing you there, standing in an awkward place in the room, too far from the sinks or towel dispensers. You were facing me. It flashed across my mind that maybe you’d just taken a picture of me while I’d been peeing or something, but I dismissed it as fast as I thought it. Who would dare be so base; so low and disrespectful; so childish? No one, surely. My imagination, I decided. I think we nodded at one another. You pretended to dry your hands. Or maybe you were putting away the camera and I simply substituted what I expected to see. Doesn’t matter: I washed my hands and left the room. I’d forgotten you entirely by the time I got back into the panel.
If I’d known how much you’d impact me later I’d have instead kicked your balls right out of your mouth and tied them to a pipe while I flushed your camera down the shitter as you watched. I’m so glad I didn’t though. Partly because of my position on violence, and I’d hate to be inconsistent, but mostly because there were so many great lessons to learn in the wake of your cheap voyeurism.
See it’s not the picture itself. As creepshots go it’s pretty terrible. I’m not in yoga shorts. You can’t see my dick. I’m not really even all that attractive, I don’t think, so I’m not sure who would want to see it. My pants are sagging pretty unfortunately down my butt, and my posture is a disgrace. So again I’m pleased with the dual lesson here to straighten up and save up for some new clothes. Rather, it’s the very act of having taken it. I’d simply never have done the same to you. I hope they write “proud sneaker of pics in men’s rooms” on your tombstone, because it won’t be on mine, and that’s proof enough that I’m better than you are. Thank you.
I also want to thank you, and your “friend” (I assume he and you are the same guy?), for my lesson in assertiveness. Do you ever walk away from a situation and think to yourself, “THAT’S what I should have said!” Me too. But not this time! Your indiscretion was so vile that the right words came swimming to my lips like siren song to a sailor’s doom. You- I mean your “friend” – showed me the picture and asked your inane question and without even thinking I said, “That’s shitty,” and, “Tell your friend he’s an asshole,” both of which are incontrovertible truths, as well as being a fantastic exit line. And the real glee here is that the elevator gaped for me as if on cue and I left your “friend” speechless and wilting like the gormless hap he (read: you), apparently is. Anytime I think back on the situation I replay it exactly as it happened, it was that perfect for me. The only way it could have been better was if it had never happened at all, but as you know, you made that unlikely. So again: Confidence boosted.
Ego, too, though I wonder here if you lost a bit of foresight with the lesson you were trying to teach me. My ego is healthy enough. Some might say too healthy. Alas, you taught me that I’m so important to you that it’s worth owning a picture of me urinating. And more than that, I’m so important and meaningful to you that you felt like all your 4chan friends would be impressed by you because you got to be near me in a bathroom while I had my cock in my hand. And some of them are impressed, too! Wowzers. So many people impressed that celebrities piss too! I want to congratulate you and all your – I’m sorry I’m not up on the lingo for what to call loathsome 4chan anons; I’ve heard “losers” but I was pretty sure “nitwits…’ I’m going with: dickwits: ego boosted, though like I say, I don’t know if it needed it. In any case. It’s a win for you.
Lastly, I want to thank you for violating me. And it was a violation. Totally. I know because I feel embarrassed, hurt, angry, confused, like it’s my fault, and all of the things someone usually feels when they’ve been assaulted. I’m grateful because it opened my eyes to the inequality within me. See it never even occurred to me to call the police because I’m a man. It wasn’t until it was pointed out to me later that if you had creeped on any of the women the way you creeped on me, the first thing would have been to call the police. And it’s thanks to you that I’m ready to do that next time. Also it’s thanks to you that I’ll be taking stricter precautions: no more going to the same toilets as fans. Or perhaps I’ll have bathrooms cleared for me and guarded while I’m in them. And maybe I should go all out and insist on cons having a police presence.Or I may just cancel all further appearances. I’m considering it all, thanks to you.
I never thought I’d be that person at Brony cons. Bronies have always been so good to me. So thank you most of all for making realize that a gentle, warm, welcoming, tolerant, and beautiful community I have adored for years is actually a thing I should fear. Suspicion is the lesson here. Because you could be anyone.
I hope you’re proud of yourself.