The Trouble with Hating You

by Sajni Patel

While my friends may have ended up in perfectly content matches, I couldn’t give in to the archaic practice of this whole arranged marriage business. Or marriage in general. Or commitment, for that matter. No. Freaking. Thank. You.

If I wanted to answer to a man for the rest of my life, I’d just live with my father.

All that judgmental, sexist shaming you’re doing isn’t reflective of her but defining you.”

“Love is enough. It’s society’s views and old-world thinking that broke everything.”

who wanted to marry a broken woman?

“Don’t let them get into your inner calm, okay? They are no one, not worth an ounce of your worry. You, my darling, are an intellectual queen, and they are but mindless peasants.”

But without evidence of his sexual assault against me, his word against mine, the saint against the whore, there was no point. He was the reason I was broken. And he was the reason why I wasn’t welcomed here, with his malicious fueling of the gossip fire that made me stay away.

“That’s a tired excuse. She’s imperfect, too. We all are. Being imperfect isn’t an excuse for you to slander. And she has every right to be here. Sounds like maybe you need to sit in the front row during

I could stand here and tell him that I wasn’t a virgin and see how he treated me. Based on my experience, he’d be fine with that, since I’m a man.

“So, you think Ravi is a jerk because of what he says about her, and yet you act like that?” Jahn asked. “I don’t know where this is coming from. Just last weekend, you told me about the gossip, that it was better the dinner didn’t happen. I didn’t call her a whore. Ravi is a completely different story.”

Honesty was a good thing, but it was alarming to realize how easily men objectified women and thought a fancy dinner equated to a night in their bed. Who was I kidding? I was dressed to say the same thing.

He hit his steering wheel and I jumped. “Girls like you don’t get the girlfriend treatment.” “Meaning…?” “I know your reputation.” “Reputation and fact have nothing to do with one another.” “Fine. Let’s go upstairs. If that’s what I have to do to get these off you.” He slipped his hand underneath my skirt, between my legs. Flashbacks screeched through my head. Harsh hands. Pleading cries. Relentless warnings. And worst of all, no one to believe me. Well, I wasn’t that little girl anymore. I was an adult. A no-fear, badass, will punch a man in his throat adult. I shook, a volatile mixture of anger and fear. A triggered memory. What would my dad say about this? Oh, it was my own fault. Right? Why would I set myself up for this? Maybe I shouldn’t have come here, but that did not give Mike an excuse.

He laughed, as if this were a game, a tease. “I did not just drop two hundred dollars for you not to give it up.”

“I’m not a two-hundred-dollar whore. You were not paying for this.” “No, you’re worth much more. But you can’t just go out with a guy dressed like this knowing what I wanted, and even encouraging it at dinner, to turn me down now.” “You’re an asshat. I don’t owe you a damn thing. You ruined it

by trying to do me here and calling me a whore.” “Don’t be ashamed of what you are.” I slapped him. And not a dainty slap, but with the back of my hand so that my rings left red and pink stripes across his face and broke skin. Yes, I was pissed and was only getting angrier, but a bit of my former self trickled to the surface. Anxiety bubbled out. My pulse raged. Sweat formed on my brow. I trembled. Because what if Mike did try something worse? Could I defend myself? Sure, he’d get pretty ...

But for the first time in years, I’d placed myself in a situation that had scared me half to death. Several years ago, fifteen-year-old Liya had been trapped in Mukesh’s house, convinced that she had done something wrong to provoke his crude behavior. Worse than that, she’d worried she’d done something wrong by exposing him to her parents. Ever since, I stepped into a position of power with boys, and then men.

was a woman who had physical, consensual relationships, and I was not ashamed.

Asking for help or comfort did not make me weak. My brain told me to shut up and keep this to myself. But that had to be a residual impact from what happened years ago. Because Dad had said it to me. Girls who get assaulted or harassed

usually placed themselves in that situation. Why was I alone with a man? I punched my pillow in its fluffy gut. “Effing screw you, Dad.” He was wrong. I snatched up my phone and called Reema.

Either way, it was a warm sight. And for half a minute, my brain foresaw this sort of thing happening a lot in the future. The women in my life having a good time. Moving on, the way Jahn said Dad would want us to. Finding real happiness in a relationship that was sanctioned by my family. But I dislodged that thought. Getting my hopes up was a dangerous thing.

“They’re barely on you. Trust me, Liya, if I wanted to be all over you, you wouldn’t have a coherent thought left in your head.”

“Pushing me away by insisting that I only want you physically, and if I so much as kiss you, you’ll convince yourself that you’re right and put an end to this dating thing. I’m not falling for that.”

“Because nice guys don’t come after me.”

know that I have a bad rep, especially at mandir. No respectable guy there takes me seriously.” “So…are you saying that I’m not respectable, or that I don’t take you seriously?”

Men fell into three categories: ones who wanted me for my body, ones who were intimidated by my personality, or ones who dismissed me because of my reputation.