When I first meet someone, or haven’t seen someone in say, more than a month, I don’t meet them in my home. This is apparently unusual here in Israel, where people’s negativity around sex leads them to do stupid and dangerous things, strangely, for some other types of safety.
What men don’t seem to understand is that it is not because they are dangerous. Everyone, even a child can be dangerous if they are hysterical or extremely angry. It is because I know that I am dangerous, and if someone does the wrong thing in my home, I will kill them.
The same behavior in a cafe, pub, or restaurant would just earn them the loss of my presence. In my home though, threats of violence or refusal to leave when asked to leave, will be answered with possibly deadly force. I do not fuck around in my house.
If I don’t know you, or I can’t reasonably predict how you’re going to behave, I’m not letting you in my home.
I was reminded of the reason for my rule when a guy I hadn’t seen for over a year decided he wanted to visit. We’d met before the N when my judgement about men wasn’t what it is today. So I’d be seeing him with new eyes.
I asked him to meet me outside, but he showed up at the door, and early, while I was still getting dressed. So I had to get myself together quickly, and get to the door.
While I was finishing up, he started making excuses to get out of taking me on a date, as he agreed to before he arrived. So I told him to get out, and escorted him to the door. He was whining already, with, “I don’t like how you’re treating me.”
I replied, “I don’t like how you’re treating me.”
He says, “What’s wrong with how I’m treating you?”
So I said, “You’re treating me like a dude, so I’m treating you like an ugly girl I don’t want to fuck right now. Out!”
He was still whining as I closed the door…and continued to whine outside my door. Then after awhile of whining, he says he’ll take me on the date. After getting sick of hearing that a few times, I opened the door and told him that he missed his chance, should stop making a scene, and that he should get off my porch, and closed the door again.
…but he kept whining, and getting louder.
Mind you, I live in a fairly nice neighborhood with nice, quiet neighbors. So I got the quietest solution I could think of:
Yes, that is a machete. She’s from the Congo. Her nickname is Dicer.
I opened the door with her sheathed and in my left hand, in plain view, and told him very calmly that all this whining and making a scene was not going to work, and he needs to get off my porch now. He made the mistake of moving towards me, and as his leading foot touched the ground, Dicer was unsheathed and at his neck.
“Get. Off. My. Porch.”
“Okay, I’m going,” he said and scrambled down the stairs. I told him, “And the moral of this story is when an African woman says go away, you fucking go away.”
Even though gutting one of you would earn me a really cool tattoo from one of my tribes, I would really prefer to do without the certain time in prison I would spend before being able to go back home to get it. Granted, in defense of my home, I would do the time with a smile, it would just be really inconvenient.
I’m a lot less crazy than many women here, if not most of them. I know women who would have been beating the guy on the way out, just for the insult. I didn’t do that. If the guy just took the “no” and went home, it would be all good. I don’t believe in unnecessary violence.
…but sometimes violence is necessary, and when it is, I am one of those people who is very good at it. I trained many years in it. Many of my best lessons were learned dealing with arrogant, crazy people who mistook my kindness for weakness.
So yes, you can find plenty of women who won’t filter you before they allow you into their home. Lots of women are so desperate and afraid of being alone that they will put themselves and their families in danger for a dick.
I am not one of them.
So if you want any of this, you’re going to take me on a date or a few before you have a chance. This is for your safety as well as mine.
