This afternoon I went to have a chat with someone I have known for a long time but I have never known well. I was scared. I wanted to talk to him about not making sexualized comments in my direction.

I started out by asking him if he knew much about me. He knew about my public bdsm play and persona. That’s it. I asked him if he knew much about PTSD. He laughed in that dry “Yes, I have lots of experience” kind of way.

We talked for about an hour. As it so happens he and his wife both have PTSD from unfortunate life experiences. We talked about the difficulty in living with hormonal ups and downs and triggers. We talked about all the god damn crying.

I did not expect to have this go well. Instead I feel like I have someone I can call if I am freaking out.

He was absolutely horrified that I spent three days crying because of something he said. He was trying to be nice. I was very clear that I am not angry with him. I was scared. I didn’t know what would happen to me. I didn’t know if I would be safe.

Women often tell me “not to bother” talking to men like this. Sometimes it blows up in my face. I’m disappointed sometimes. And sometimes I’m not disappointed. Sometimes people far exceed my basic expectations. Sometimes people are down right awesome.

I have survived by skating from one kindness from a stranger to another. It is why I keep asking.

I don’t want to say very much about the conversation because he revealed a lot of very personal details. We traded trauma stories for an hour. He has had a hard life.

I am surprised sometimes because I have low expectations. I keep asking because at heart I am an optimist. I have to believe that the main thing that has kept this race going is that we *do* love one another. We *do* form bonds.

He has known me for more than 1/3 of my life. He didn’t know any of the bad. He was trying as hard as he could to be appropriate and friendly given what he knew. If I want him to change his behavior towards me I have to explain why. So I did.

I think this will go better. *cross fingers*