Beloveds,
a few weeks ago i wrote about Mr. Hey — the man who kept sending me "hey" over and over after i told him multiple times that i don't answer "hey." the man for whom i edited his book on my free time and then had the nerve to tell me my display picture is why men look at me.
i wrote the post. i got it off my chest. i thought that was the end.
it was not the end. (if you haven't seen that first post, check it out here)
What Happened After I Published
i had decided to keep ignoring him. the "heys" kept coming. then a phone call. then a video call. then he shared a dream he had about me.
the dream was significant enough that i responded. i should have known better. my response was six words: "thanks for sharing, message received." that was apparently an invitation.
more messages. more commentary about my display picture. and then — HE SENT A DICK VIDEO!
not a picture. a video. i didn't click on it. i didn't screenshot it. what i did was ask for help.
Asking For Help When I Didn't Want To
i hadn't told Gifftid any of this. as far as i was concerned, this man didn't exist. but at 3am, i laid out the whole story. from the first "hey" to the unsolicited video.
his response surprised me. he didn't turn it on me. he got upset with Mr. Hey.
he called him. they had their male rage tit-for-tat thing on the phone. i sat and listened. i asked for help and he was offering it the way he could — even when i don't always agree with anger and volume as tools. Mr. Hey ended the call with an apology.
not to me. to Gifftid.
the only thing i'll ever want from Mr. Hey is an apology to the person he actually violated. me. and since i'm not holding my breath for that, i've given that to myself.
I Saw Him. At Easter.
we went to the annual Easter family gathering at the local park. Prince ran in the open space. i did yoga. i painted. it was a good day.
and then Mr. Hey walked past on the sidewalk outside the park. he looked at me. i saw him.
i had absolutely no reaction.
he looked confused. or something else. Ii didn't alert Gifftid. i didn't want to see how that would unfold, especially with Prince right there.
what i noticed, lying in bed that night: i wasn't shaken. i wasn't afraid. i was just... done. completely, quietly done.
The Part That Actually Matters
during the phone call, Gifftid found out something. Mr. Hey told him he is bipolar. that he sometimes does things that don't make sense. also that when Gifftid first called, he wasn't sure which woman he was referring to — implying this is a pattern.
i'm holding that loosely. mental illness is real. and using mental illness as a costume for fucked up behavior is also real. i don't know which one this is. what I know is: it's not my job to figure it out.
my prayer is that he gets the help he needs. genuinely! because sending unsolicited explicit content to women — more than one woman, apparently — is fucked up regardless of what's going on underneath it.
I Am Safe. I Know This.
when fear crept in — a dream Ii had months ago, a look on his face, a park, Prince nearby — i named it, i felt it and then i came back to what i know.
I am safe. I am protected. I am always guided.
the fear is not prophecy. the fear is just the body doing its job. i thanked it and moved on.
i also went to the park. i did yoga in public. i painted with family. i watched my son enjoy the beach and hear him say the word out loud for the first time.
that's the day i chose to have. and i had it.
Mr. Hey is a chapter i didn't ask for. he is also now closed.
if any of this is living in your body right now — the violation, the confusion, the having to ask for help with something you wish didn't exist — "Dear Gifftid" might be the book that meets you there. it's the one i wrote about the door that got broken down. it's about what happens when someone makes you feel unsafe in the place that's supposed to hold you. it's $17 - grab it here.
Talk Soon,
Santana Chevel 🌹