A slight change of plans

Today's post was going to be so great. Really. You would have loved it. It was going to be all about writing and blogging - the psychology behind it, why I started to write this (my first, by the way) blog, and why blogging seems to me the ideal way to get over a weird phobia I have about committing myself to any sort of opinion in print. It's not that I'm a particularly private person - get me face to face and without any form of brainal consultation I will spout whatever gem of social faux-pascity that day provides - but the process of writing for me possesses a different valence, one inextricably connected with competition, anxiety, and the need to 'prove' oneself. I suspect that this is detritus of having spent far too much time in Prestigious Tusk Tower, a highly competitive, slightly terrifying, university environment. However, details of my life in TuskTower will have to wait for another post, for the next time I'm feeling philosophical and ponderific.

This is because after the events of today, well, I feel the need for a slight U-turn. Or a Z-turn. Whatever it is, it has to get from the psychology of writing in (relative) anonymity to the psychology of masturbating in public. Yes. You heard it. Masturbating. In. Public. I hasten to add - this is not my leisure activity of choice. Rather, this post is dedicated to the lank-haired young gentleman who followed me in daylight hours, on a relatively public walk by the canals in Villageville, and then proceded to show me how much he 'liked me for my mind'. After I made a hasty exit off the path, phone in hand (which made me realise that I don't even know the Belgian emergency number ... the only number I could come up with to call was my dad, in Australia) he then followed me part of the way home, or at least I hope it was only part of the way...

Now, coming from an academic background I am no stranger to the mental version of "I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours", and my last trip to the continent provided no less than four opportunities to witness men who decided that they would prove their masculinity to me in the same way that my new friend did today. None of them, however, have distressed me as much as did today's experience. I had 'felt' him walking behind me for a long time (I'm not sure if this is a primarily female sensory experience - to me it is a totally different form of awareness), but of course it wasn't until he overtook me that he pulled out (no pun intended) the big guns... or whatever size they may be.

What if he hadn't done this just as there was an exit from the path? What if, after I had hightailed into a more residential area, I hadn't turned around and caught him coming down the path behind me? I know that he had to double back to do this, I couldn't have just been 'mistaken' and he couldn't have just been going on his way... As I said, I have had a lot of experiences of this kind whilst travelling, but none of them have ever made me start hyperventilating in a public place before. As I tried to go over this later, I began to realise I'd never had such a visceral reaction before as it has never before occurred at 'home'. It's always been in a place I can leave at any time, whereas this time it was in 'my' town, on 'my' walk. Villageville is a small place - do I now have to watch wherever I go, or wherever I walk, for this cretinous version of human existence, as odds are he lives somewhere close by? Should I avoid the canals for the rest of my time here, despite that it is my favourite and most peaceful place to be? Every time I've had this happen, I simply don't understand why they do it - is it power? But how can it be powerful to put yourself in what can only be the lamest of 'masculine' positions ...? I really don't understand, but I wish that today hadn't happened.

I don't understand why someone is allowed to make my life feel dirty.