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Last night I went with a friend to a Burlesque show, put on by a local performer who I've met, and is very talented and wonderful. My friend and I both had a fantastic time, but unfortunately, events...or rather...dickheads...conspired to spoil the evening completely.
Warning, there will be a LOT of bad language in Part 2.
Background:
I am a goth, and I dress in an eccentric fashion. The night before I was a pirate, last night I was a Bloody-Crumpet-esque burlesque girl. My outfit consisted of a pink and white frilly top, a black steel-boned underbust corset, a black puffy skirt with fake suspenders, flesh coloured fishnets, white and pink over-knee socks held up by visible suspenders under my skirt, wee little high-heeled gothy mary-jane style shoes and a feathery pink fascinator. The outfit was a tad more revealing than I'm used to (being as you could see the suspenders and I'm busty <.< ) but it wasn't slutty, more saucy. No, there are no photos. You'll find out why in Part 2.
This Burlesque show I frequent is a great varied crowd of people, and there is usually an after party at the pub opposite, which is marvellous. Sadly that night, the room they usually use was not available, and it had been moved to a tiny bar down the road. On a Friday or Saturday night, this road, which is basically a night-club/restaurant strip at night, is very busy. I've had plenty of friends recommend it as a good alternative to go drinking to some of the other popular (horrible) places in this city, but I've never felt too comfortable down there. Usually, I stick to the theatre, and the after-party.
Part 1
So my friend and I left the theatre relatively quickly, and found the bar, and joined the queue. It was a very small venue, and I could see it getting full quickly, and then people perhaps being barred entry for a while, so I was glad we got there so quickly. The queue was letting in the theatre goers through an alternative entrance, and it was moving steadily. We make it to the front of the queue, when the door is pushed too in front of us. It seemed that the door being open was blocking another doorway and we assumed it was just being held shut so someone could move through the other doorway (if that makes sense), but after a minute or so, it didn't look so good.
Then this guy in dressy clothes, starts saying something like "this isn't going to work." A few more minutes pass, and he says to the bouncers standing right next to us "I'm going to close this entrance, its not working like this."
He said it without even batting an eyelid at the people in the queue. I actually said "Well, we don't want to lose our place in the queue." But he ignored us completely, like we weren't even there. Then he just shut the door in our faces.
My friend and I (and the bouncers) were a tad perplexed, as were the people queuing behind us. Then a few minutes later, the same dressed-up guy pops up at another entrance and just starts calling out "This is the entrance now!" The queue just turned around, making us the very BACK of the queue, rather than the front.
Anyone who knows a brit, knows that queue-fuckery makes us angry. As were we. I said "Hey, thats not fair, we're now at the back, we've been waiting at the front!" But nope, no one paid attention. Except for some of our neighbours who were in the same boat.
I mean, how bloody rude! We were really pissed off about that! I'm actually going to tell the performer who organised the show, let him know that the staff there are really rude and unprofessional. Hopefully they won't hold it in that bar again. I certainly won't ever drink there!
So after a few curses, we just left, and decided to find somewhere else to hang out for a bit. It was only about half past ten, and we didn't want to go home yet.
Part 2
This was the worst part, and this is where all the foul language comes in (on my part, but I refuse to call this a self-sighting).
My friend and I were wondering around for a while, peering in bar/pub windows, and dismissing each establishment we came to. You know, I've had loads of friends say to me in the past "You should be fine in X area, you get a lot indie people!" Well, I saw no indie people, only a lot of chavs and perverts. I was getting blatantly eyed up everywhere we went. My friend said he overheard a guy refer to him as "a very lucky man", assuming he was my boyfriend. I assumed from that that at least I wouldn't get hassle, as people were assuming my friend and I were a couple. I hoped so, because the looks I was getting were making me profoundly uncomfortable.
Apparently not.
Just as we both crossed a road and stepped onto a street corner, and two men walk past us. The first one, a horrible scruffy man barely my height waited until he was almost past me when he reached back and grabs me by the right breast and squeezes hard before releasing and carrying on.
I whirled around, interrupting my friend (who hadn't noticed) and yelled: "HEY!"
The scumbag glanced back at me once, and carried on walking, hands in his pockets, as though nothing had happened.
This is what I think came out of my mouth:
"Hey! HEY! YOU COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW YOU FUCKING BASTARD. YEAH YOU, IM TALKING TO YOU, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT, HOW DARE YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME! HEY! YOU CUNT! Yeah that CUNT just GROPED ME! YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!"
The second guy is standing there, blinking saying "I didn't touch you love!"
To which I said very nicely, "No no, its not you love, you're fine its THAT-FUCKING-CUNT-RIGHT-THEEEERRREEEE!" *punctuated by stabbing motions in the air* "YOU'RE FUCKING SCUM! YEAH YOU KEEP WALKING YOU FILTHY PIECE OF SHIT!"
And you know what, that guy has no fucking idea how lucky he is. I was wearing high heels. If I had been wearing my New Rock boots:
http://newrockdirect.co.uk/
I would have been chasing that fucker down and curb-stomped his face. I tell you what, I was in such a rage, a rage that rarely comes over me. I could have easily caught up in the right footwear, and made a bloody mess of his genitals. My current New Rock boots are due for replacement shortly anyway, so I would have probably kept going until the plates snapped.
I'm sorry if the language offends anyone but I NEVER take that sort of thing lying down. My rule is MAKE A BIG SCENE! People like that are predators. I never take the whole "boys will be boys" thing anyway but he wasn't just a young lad who had gotten a bit cocky on a night out- he was dressed in shabby, unremarkable clothing, looked really dodgy, and carried on, blended back in with the crowd (I was also disturbed by how nobody took any notice of my screaming).
I wished so badly that I had my fiance there. My fiance who is nick-named Bear. He's a lovely guy, but you just don't fuck with his rabbit. It actually cheered me up when he described at length all the horrible things he would do to this man if he ever saw him.
Sadly, I don't even know if its worth telling the police. I can't even remember his face. It was so quick, and he kept his back turned (which confirms in my head that he is a real pervert, not just some jack-the-lad). I can only remember that he was black, and shorter than me
After that I just wanted to go home. It then took almost an hour for us to get a cab. BAD NIGHT.
Bonus Irony:
I spent the previous night at a fetish club that houses a fully equipped dungeon. Yet I was perfectly safe there. No unwanted advances. One guy asked me very politely if I wanted to play, I said no, he said ok, and backed off. The next night I'm in a "normal" part of town, and this shit happens.
I'm sticking to fetish clubs.
Warning, there will be a LOT of bad language in Part 2.
Background:
I am a goth, and I dress in an eccentric fashion. The night before I was a pirate, last night I was a Bloody-Crumpet-esque burlesque girl. My outfit consisted of a pink and white frilly top, a black steel-boned underbust corset, a black puffy skirt with fake suspenders, flesh coloured fishnets, white and pink over-knee socks held up by visible suspenders under my skirt, wee little high-heeled gothy mary-jane style shoes and a feathery pink fascinator. The outfit was a tad more revealing than I'm used to (being as you could see the suspenders and I'm busty <.< ) but it wasn't slutty, more saucy. No, there are no photos. You'll find out why in Part 2.
This Burlesque show I frequent is a great varied crowd of people, and there is usually an after party at the pub opposite, which is marvellous. Sadly that night, the room they usually use was not available, and it had been moved to a tiny bar down the road. On a Friday or Saturday night, this road, which is basically a night-club/restaurant strip at night, is very busy. I've had plenty of friends recommend it as a good alternative to go drinking to some of the other popular (horrible) places in this city, but I've never felt too comfortable down there. Usually, I stick to the theatre, and the after-party.
Part 1
So my friend and I left the theatre relatively quickly, and found the bar, and joined the queue. It was a very small venue, and I could see it getting full quickly, and then people perhaps being barred entry for a while, so I was glad we got there so quickly. The queue was letting in the theatre goers through an alternative entrance, and it was moving steadily. We make it to the front of the queue, when the door is pushed too in front of us. It seemed that the door being open was blocking another doorway and we assumed it was just being held shut so someone could move through the other doorway (if that makes sense), but after a minute or so, it didn't look so good.
Then this guy in dressy clothes, starts saying something like "this isn't going to work." A few more minutes pass, and he says to the bouncers standing right next to us "I'm going to close this entrance, its not working like this."
He said it without even batting an eyelid at the people in the queue. I actually said "Well, we don't want to lose our place in the queue." But he ignored us completely, like we weren't even there. Then he just shut the door in our faces.
My friend and I (and the bouncers) were a tad perplexed, as were the people queuing behind us. Then a few minutes later, the same dressed-up guy pops up at another entrance and just starts calling out "This is the entrance now!" The queue just turned around, making us the very BACK of the queue, rather than the front.
Anyone who knows a brit, knows that queue-fuckery makes us angry. As were we. I said "Hey, thats not fair, we're now at the back, we've been waiting at the front!" But nope, no one paid attention. Except for some of our neighbours who were in the same boat.
I mean, how bloody rude! We were really pissed off about that! I'm actually going to tell the performer who organised the show, let him know that the staff there are really rude and unprofessional. Hopefully they won't hold it in that bar again. I certainly won't ever drink there!
So after a few curses, we just left, and decided to find somewhere else to hang out for a bit. It was only about half past ten, and we didn't want to go home yet.
Part 2
This was the worst part, and this is where all the foul language comes in (on my part, but I refuse to call this a self-sighting).
My friend and I were wondering around for a while, peering in bar/pub windows, and dismissing each establishment we came to. You know, I've had loads of friends say to me in the past "You should be fine in X area, you get a lot indie people!" Well, I saw no indie people, only a lot of chavs and perverts. I was getting blatantly eyed up everywhere we went. My friend said he overheard a guy refer to him as "a very lucky man", assuming he was my boyfriend. I assumed from that that at least I wouldn't get hassle, as people were assuming my friend and I were a couple. I hoped so, because the looks I was getting were making me profoundly uncomfortable.
Apparently not.
Just as we both crossed a road and stepped onto a street corner, and two men walk past us. The first one, a horrible scruffy man barely my height waited until he was almost past me when he reached back and grabs me by the right breast and squeezes hard before releasing and carrying on.
I whirled around, interrupting my friend (who hadn't noticed) and yelled: "HEY!"
The scumbag glanced back at me once, and carried on walking, hands in his pockets, as though nothing had happened.
This is what I think came out of my mouth:
"Hey! HEY! YOU COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW YOU FUCKING BASTARD. YEAH YOU, IM TALKING TO YOU, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT, HOW DARE YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME! HEY! YOU CUNT! Yeah that CUNT just GROPED ME! YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!"
The second guy is standing there, blinking saying "I didn't touch you love!"
To which I said very nicely, "No no, its not you love, you're fine its THAT-FUCKING-CUNT-RIGHT-THEEEERRREEEE!" *punctuated by stabbing motions in the air* "YOU'RE FUCKING SCUM! YEAH YOU KEEP WALKING YOU FILTHY PIECE OF SHIT!"
And you know what, that guy has no fucking idea how lucky he is. I was wearing high heels. If I had been wearing my New Rock boots:
http://newrockdirect.co.uk/
I would have been chasing that fucker down and curb-stomped his face. I tell you what, I was in such a rage, a rage that rarely comes over me. I could have easily caught up in the right footwear, and made a bloody mess of his genitals. My current New Rock boots are due for replacement shortly anyway, so I would have probably kept going until the plates snapped.
I'm sorry if the language offends anyone but I NEVER take that sort of thing lying down. My rule is MAKE A BIG SCENE! People like that are predators. I never take the whole "boys will be boys" thing anyway but he wasn't just a young lad who had gotten a bit cocky on a night out- he was dressed in shabby, unremarkable clothing, looked really dodgy, and carried on, blended back in with the crowd (I was also disturbed by how nobody took any notice of my screaming).
I wished so badly that I had my fiance there. My fiance who is nick-named Bear. He's a lovely guy, but you just don't fuck with his rabbit. It actually cheered me up when he described at length all the horrible things he would do to this man if he ever saw him.
Sadly, I don't even know if its worth telling the police. I can't even remember his face. It was so quick, and he kept his back turned (which confirms in my head that he is a real pervert, not just some jack-the-lad). I can only remember that he was black, and shorter than me
After that I just wanted to go home. It then took almost an hour for us to get a cab. BAD NIGHT.
Bonus Irony:
I spent the previous night at a fetish club that houses a fully equipped dungeon. Yet I was perfectly safe there. No unwanted advances. One guy asked me very politely if I wanted to play, I said no, he said ok, and backed off. The next night I'm in a "normal" part of town, and this shit happens.
I'm sticking to fetish clubs.
) and at any rate, women shouldn't HAVE to learn self-defence to go out on the town!
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