“I wondered what you were capable of. I wondered if you would actually hurt me?”
Yesterday, as I sat at the boom gate of the carpark exit trying to remedy a pretty standard situation, you decided it appropriate to start hurling abuse at me. Maybe you were having a bad day (actually you know what, I don’t care) but despite only being held up a few minutes, you took it upon yourself to call me a “stupid bitch” a “dumb slut” and a “fucking moron” at the top of your lungs out the car window. I could hear you. Just to make sure you shouted “Are you fucking deaf you idiot, I said move your fucking car.”
You could see that I was getting more and more flustered when time after time the car park attendant ignored my calls for assistance, but you were relentless, weren’t you? You obviously saw I was distressed. I had tears running down my cheeks. But instead of trying to help me, you got out of your car and started yelling more obscenities at me, right in my face. “You stupid fucking bitch. Move your fucking car or I’ll move it for you.” You were uncomfortably close to me. There was no reason for you to be standing next to me.
I had my kids in the car. Both looked on as you approached me screaming. I could hear my eldest son crying “Mummy”. He was frightened. As you moved closer and closer to my face, I could feel your breath on me as you hurled every expletive you could think of towards me, a complete stranger. I wondered what you were capable of. I wondered if you would actually hurt me? I’ve heard of random acts of road rage violence and grew concerned for my safety (as well as my children’s) and I questioned whether you were the kind of person capable of it. Your temper was obviously uncontrollable and as a woman, I was scared. No man has the right to make a woman feel like that. Actually, no body (man or woman) has the right to make another person feel the way I did.