This is a letter to the man who tried to take advantage of me and then add me on Facebook:
Knowing your Napolean complex, I’m sure that when you first read my #MeToo blog post, you were wriggling in your seat with eagerness to light me up. I’m sure that you drafted many a text message or direct message to me, wanting to scream at me for revealing your predatorial ways. I’m confident in this because you always had a short temper– fitting for such a short man.
Predator, I’m writing to you because you grew some balls a couple months back in December. You summoned the courage to friend request me on Facebook. To be quite honest, I had to blink twice because no one in their right mind, especially being exposed the way I exposed you, would ever do such a thing. But then I forgot you have an heir of egregious cockiness about you that is so much bigger than your frame. You are one of those types who gains confidence when they drink, except you don’t need liquor for your trigger. You are one of those pesky types who, despite being told “No” one thousand times, will still continue to pursue a woman — or women — with no interest in you. You are the type of person who sees his only opportunity to score with a girl is by taking advantage of her while she sleeps or is heavily intoxicated. Yes, you are one of those. Those pathetic types.
At one point, I almost felt sad for you, Predator. When we were friends, you shared with me your troubled upbringing growing up in the projects. Never fitting in at school because you were nerdy, awkward, and unathletic; never feeling like you belonged. Well, congratulations! You now belong to a very exclusive group. A club that has memberships from the elite like Harvey Weinstein, Brett Kavanaugh, Charlie Rose, Matt Lauer, Bill Cosby, and more. And boy, you sure do fit right in.
Like many of your fellow members, you lack empathy or care or even the slightest concern for what you did to me and your other victims. In your words, you said, “I’m sorry you feel that way…” No, no, no, dear. Your Ivy League degree from Notre Dame tells me that you understand the basics of human decency (more or less) like how to properly apologize. The proper apology is not “I’m sorry you feel that way.” The proper apology is “I am sorry that I did that to you, and the other girls you mentioned, and also the countless other women who I met before and after you.” Now THAT would be an apology.
The reason this letter is arriving so late, Predator, is because I did not know how to respond. My first instinct when I received that request was to send you a link to my blog post, which I did. And then after your pathetic excuse for an apology, I wanted to curse you out, but I did not. I instead just blocked you. But, then I wanted to curse you out here. I wanted to blast you for being an egotistical narcissist. I wanted to say how ironic it is that you’re so cocky when your actual cock isn’t even the size of my pinky. I wanted to publicize the name of your start-up and warn any future female employees you may have about your ways. I wanted to make you feel smaller than you already are. But, I decided against my better judgement.
Instead, I will just say this. You, a “Godly” man, know that the Bible says “what is done in darkness shall come to light.” I am not that light. I will not be the one to reveal who you really are or what you really do, quite simply because I have no substantial evidence to back it up. However, there will come a day where you slip up. You will attack a woman who will have enough evidence to lock you up for life. And when she speaks up, so will the dozens of other women I suspect you have or will have attacked over the years. You will lose your job, be unseated from the head of your company, and lose your family. Your reputation will be tarnished (no more alumni happy hours for you!). And you will rot in a jail cell for years; hopefully a lifetime.
And when that happens, please remember that I warned you. I warned you to apologize and I warned you to stop your devilish ways. I warned you that this day will come. I’d like to end this letter by saying, “Fuck you,” but I won’t. Just kidding…