Just Another Facebook Rant – Part One
Anyone who knows me knows that I love a good rant. Ranting is one of the most underrated pleasures in life. What can be more enjoyable than shouting and rambling over something that bugs you, knowing that it will change absolutely nothing?
Nothing beats a good rant. Nothing.
If you’ve been following this blog for a while, you probably already know that social media is a popular -albeit touchy- subject for me. The first time I posted something about internet habits that bugged me, I remember being bombarded with a buttload of hateful comments and curse words and a whopping 8,000 views.
Because life makes no sense.
But I can’t just stop writing about social media amidst this lovely and destructive digital revolution we’re currently witnessing. And I can’t just not rant. Ranting is fun.
Over the past couple of months, I have explored a whole new rock bottom in social media. And because misery loves company, I would like to entertain you with some of my miserable social media stories, so that you can have a good laugh (and possibly not repeat my mistakes).
The stories may run a bit long, so I’ll post each one in its own post. Let’s start with Part One, titled:
The Crazy Sexist
A while back, I was driving amidst the 5 pm ring road rush hour. Traffic was killer, and I had my earphones on and was talking on the phone with a friend. After a few minutes I felt like someone was watching me -which is a regular occurrence because I am a living, breathing female in a very horny society.
But this time it was extra creepy.
I looked next to me and there was a car driving so close to mine that I could have probably been able to reach out and change their radio stations for them.
The car was filled with five guys, two of which had their heads out the window, and there was a major harassment fest going on. I tried to speed up in the shitty traffic and they still came closer…tried to slow down so they would pass, but to no avail. I was a target and they just refused to leave me alone.
Now, normally I would roll down my window and blast a couple of nasty curse words at them, but I was outnumbered and stuck in traffic -and it usually encourages them all anyway. So instead, I went with a different approach and took out my phone and started taking pictures of them.
Well, it seems they got so freaked out that I’d post the pictures online and that their parents or girlfriends might see them, so they literally just looked the other way and left me alone.
I posted my triumph on Facebook, along with the pictures. I knew nothing would happen to them because this is Egypt after all; the land of absolutely zero justice, but I just wanted girls to know that this can be a good response to sexual harassment.
The post got shared a few times, and people were being very supportive.
A few days later, I receive a message from what appeared to be another Egyptian female. They were asking me to take down the post.
I’m not going to explain what happened; let me just show you.
(Spoiler alert: evidently it was a guy who just happens to have a girl’s name.)
Here we go…
It started out innocently enough…just a random stranger giving me their opinion on something that does not concern them whatsoever…
Then it started to get a bit weird…
It started to feel like he was attacking me and that I somehow had to defend myself, even though it was absolutely none of his business…
I still tried to be nice, because I pride myself in giving people a chance to speak their minds (even though they turn out to be idiots)..
“Never helped my case”? Am I on trial here?
At this point I’m just trying to finish up this creepy conversation without making him cry..
But of course, idiots don’t know how to let things go.
Say “la darar w la daraar” one more time…..
What the actual FUCK?
Now he thinks that I’m going to assume he’s hitting on me? Because I “seem to stereotype”?
OH HELL NAW.
You just poked the bear, asshole.
But, idiots never shut up, do they? He -of course- had to respond yet again.
Respect your time? I can’t even respect the fact that your parents hated you so much they gave you a girl’s name.
I “stormed in a very inappropriate manner”…
This guy really had no clue who I was and did not really fathom the amount of self control I used to not insult him. If he finds this “inappropriate”, then he’s in for a big surprise if he ever runs into me again.
“Hilarious” de tob2a ommak elly edetak esm bent yabn el weskha.
Now, this is where it (thankfully) ends. You might be wondering why it had to end.
The thing is, throughout this conversation I was at work and happened to find out that one of my colleagues is a mutual friend between me and this fucktard.
So I asked him what his deal was, and apparently this guy does this A LOT. He messages random girls and basically strikes up any type of conversation as a way of hitting on them.
(And I actually ran into two girls this guy harassed via Facebook before).
In my case, I think he felt like this witty, lively conversation would somehow lead me into thinking that he “challenges” me and that my tiny female brain would somehow find him attractive.
I contemplated giving him an earful of curse words, but he struck me as the type that would take screenshots and post them on his Facebook page (I have a blog, ha ha) and the whole ordeal would never end.
So I pressed block, and the bastard was blocked for good.
Never had I ever interacted with such a sexist, misogynistic, narcissistic, passive aggressive whack job. Seriously. I honestly feel sorry for him -the fact that this is the approach he uses to get women is just sad.
So, what’s the moral of this super long story?
The lesson here is: never ever respond to messages sent by someone not on your friends list! When you see a “message request”, just move along and pretend you never saw it. It might seem like a stranger asking an innocent question or trying to be friendly, but no. Just no.
Wait for part 2; the Facebook rant is not over, but this sexist fucktard definitely is. I hope his future wife pees in his food and uses his toothbrush to clean the toilet.
Aaaaaah, ranting. It’s my form of meditation.