Of the art of halal seduction

Despite its cuttings and executions, #MeToo has failed to train all dominant males. When you are a woman, even if you have some white locks, it is better not to walk through certain neighborhoods or walk alone through the Bois de Vincennes. Lived experience…


There are real stories that we are so hesitant to tell that they run the risk of being considered implausible. Here is an example.

One of the few advantages of getting older, in my opinion, is that I have become almost invisible in public space; I’ve earned the right to be left alone at last. Wrinkles and white streaks are a useful bulwark, or so I thought until very recently.

On this beautiful and sunny women’s rights day of March 8, 2022, I have a late afternoon date with my friends to meet our favorite speaker at the Chalet du lac, where women are invited. While I wait for the Z hour, I go for a walk with my dogs through the alleys of the Bois de Vincennes.

ACT 1

Sitting on a tree trunk in a small clearing, I read a book in silence, my two dogs lying obediently in the grass at my feet. A man in his forties, massively corpulent, bald and with a broken mouth (obviously many blows have irreparably shattered his portrait) arrives on his bicycle. Without saying a word, in a few seconds, he drops his bike on the ground, stands in front of me with both legs apart, unzips his fly, takes out his filthy erection and begins his disgusting exhibitionist task. I immediately stride away and leave this wretch to his pitiful solitude. My dogs have not understood anything and they do not show me canine solidarity; I am so sorry. A few minutes later the loser in question passes me on his bike, turns around, spits in my direction (luckily he doesn’t hit the mark) and gratifies me like a “dirty bitch” (in French “dirty whore”, I understood) before disappearing.

Also read: Thaïs d’Escufon: the taste of water

ACT 2

The law of the series sometimes loving to remember our good memories, my second seducer of the day does not wait (barely twenty minutes have passed, just the time needed to calm my cardiac arrhythmia and dry my cold sweats). As I improvise a solid Nordic walk this time towards the Allée Royale, frequented at all hours by runners and walkers, I hear someone call my name right behind me. I don’t answer but force my pace, while keeping my desire to run. A line of insults follows in Arabic but I recognize the sounds of the endless “I’m talking to you dirty bitch, dirty bitch (sic), I want to crush you, I want to fuck you, fuck your sister, your mother, your daughter,” goes my whole family.

Also read: Defendant Thaïs, shut up!

Here I am, finally making it to the big royal alley where I finally had the courage to turn around and face him. His eyes are black and bulging, there are holes where his teeth are dripping, he’s visibly drunk (but not enough to stop me from chasing me) and he threatens me with a half-full bottle of wine. A brave walker comes running towards me and tells me to stay away, that he will take care of him. But nothing calms him down, he continues to follow me, completely ignoring my impromptu bodyguard after spraying him with a “dirty pidé” (translation: dirty fagot) and tries to crush me with his bottle without reaching me. Luckily, the Horse Guard had just turned around and three gendarmes galloped down. He is not stupid, he obviously knows the procedures and the behavior to adopt in front of the police, he immediately keeps a low profile, politely presents his documents, denies having assaulted me and obediently agrees to frisk me. The gendarmes are not fooled and ask their police colleagues for help. Now there are three policemen and three gendarmes who take my statement and that of my witness, the walker. I hope that the rickety man is taken to the police station to be held accountable and that he remains in police custody for a while, but not at all, since it is not a “characterized” aggression (that is, without traces, without blood). , without semen), he is free to go immediately to flirt with the first woman he meets again on his way.

Also read: guilty indifference

This is life. Pity the insult, the threat, the fear in the stomach, the urge to vomit, the anger, the disgust. #MeToo hasn’t changed much in the end and perverts don’t have to worry too much, they still have good days ahead of them..

I meet my friends at the Chalet du lac where we are warmly received by our Z, in the pure tradition of courtly art. Five hundred participants listen with pounding hearts to her tribute to women, her recognition of her beauty, her courage, her intelligence, her freedom, her audacity and her promise to protect them ALWAYS . I take your word for it.

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