Abi was a dick.

A post reminded me of him earlier.

I was 20. We had met at a bar in the city. He had a flashy car, big fancy watch and bought me expensive drinks all night while our mutual friends got off in the corner. We talked about art and jobs and family. He had inherited his dad's house rental empire and was rolling in cash.

But I was apprehensive about meeting him again, because he insisted on touching my butt the whole night and tried to touch my tits. I managed to swerve a kiss or 20.

We swapped numbers, because I felt presured into it and was too drunk to give a false one.

I got a call the following day. An apology and invite to dinner. I decline. Uni work and whatever, but would let him know when I was free. I got a text that night. I miss you. You made me so hard last night. I cant stop thinking about your tits.

Great, but still got uni work to hand in. 2 phone calls before 3am the next morning. I was up, doing my work. Im so sorry, I really like you, and I think we'd be great together. My brother has some design work I could put your way.

I stopped responding.

I'm going to rape you when I see you at *** again.

I questioned myself as to how much I had led him on.
The drinks were on tab and I'd offered to pay, even went to the bar countless times by myself to be told they were on him by the bar staff.
I sat in the corner, he sat practically on me because he couldn't hear me.
My texts of, Im busy, I'll get back to you later, were a turn on.
I could have dressed in a sleeping bag and he still would have touched me. Why should I not dress as I wish anyway.

And it's fucked up. Because apparently this is ok behaviour.