Ok. so I have a fucking phobia on top of everything else.
Men terrify me now.
Any man I met before I remembered what happened to me is ok, they are safe from this because I know them. They remain my trusted friends.
But I can’t take having men in my house now.
The gas man came to read the meter- a perfectly nice guy, chatting away, completely normal. He waited for me to let him in, was pleasant, smiled, and left with a cheery goodbye.
The entire time he was in my house, I was on edge. I was jittery as fuck. I stood there, fists clenched, chattering back on autopilot, but I was ready to run.
Where the meter is, there is also a maiden to hang washing on. It’s one on a hoist, lifted above our heads, so the hot air which rises dries the clothes quicker. It was in the way of the door, so I pulled the rope to lift it a little higher- not that it really helped. As he was standing there, I was thinking to myself, “If he comes at me, I can drop this on his head, and run whilst he’s trying to untangle himself.”
Seriously though, the guy was a genuine, pleasant, friendly working man. He was utter professional in every way. I was the one collapsing at the door, shaking and crying, then running to another room to slam the door shut and lean on it.
I am the one with the glitch in my brain.