NocturnaLizzie

The first incident happened when I was about ten. I was walking with my best friend in her neighborhood. A gray van drove past us very slowly with the driver’s window rolled down. The man driving was naked and had positioned himself so that he could wave his penis at us from his seat. We were immediately shocked and horrified, but even more so when the van, after passing us, turned around and started to come back. We ran across the street to the house of a boy we knew from school and hid behind the bushes in front of his porch. I have no idea what would’ve happened if we’d tried to keep walking. After we thought it was safe, we hurried back to her house. We never told our parents or talked about it with each other. I posted about it on Twitter last night, but before that, the only person I’d told was my husband.

I was about 16. He was my age, and we’d met through some volunteer work. He seemed nice enough, though one of my friends who also knew him warned me that he’d been suspended from school for selling marijuana. He said he was trying to be better, and I believed him. He knew I was already happy in my relationship and had no intention of ending it. I wanted to be friends and maybe help him kick his bad habits. He wanted more. He picked me up, held me against a wall, and refused to put me down until I kissed him. Another time, we were sitting on the floor at a dance/party and I tried to scoot away, so he grabbed my arm and yanked me back towards him. He was manipulative and aggressive. My parents knew him and my mom thought he was a very nice boy. I never told her why I suddenly stopped all forms of contact with him. I’ve never talked about this to anyone.

When I was 18, I was lonely, emotional, vulnerable, and depressed. A guy in one of my classes had become one of my good friends. He was cute and sweet and I really liked him. I’d opened up to him about some of my problems and he knew how I felt about him. One night, he texted me basically asking me to sleep with him. He knew about my religious beliefs that would make me very much not okay with doing that. He didn’t push it that night. Later, we were alone and I was pretty stressed. Things began innocently enough; he started rubbing my shoulders as I did my math homework. Then his hands moved to my chest. I turned around and he started kissing me. I didn’t mind the kissing. Maybe this meant he liked me, too. He started undoing his pants. I didn’t know what was happening or what I should do. On the one hand, I did really like this guy and I wanted him to like me, but the direction he was trying to take things was not okay at all. He wanted me to use my hands. I’d never been in that kind of situation before, was very uncomfortable, and had absolutely no experience to help me know what my hands were meant to be doing. He wanted me to use my mouth instead. I didn’t want any of this to be happening, but I was too shy and desperate for his affection to run away like I know I should have. I let it happen a few other times. It always started out as just kissing, but that wasn’t enough. I wanted so badly to be loved that I let him compromise my standards and use me. He tried to take my pants off even though I’d managed to have enough courage to let him know that was completely off limits. If I hadn’t been so insecure about my body, I wonder if I might’ve been pushed to allow whatever he wanted. As much as I like to think I had the strength to pull his hand away from my pants for moral reasons, I know deep down that it was mostly because of how much I hated my body. I never thought I’d be glad that my teenage self despised my appearance, but that was the biggest reason I was able to stand up for myself. I thought that if he saw my body without my typical baggy jeans and hoodie, he might not like me anymore and I’d be back to feeling alone. When I stopped being his plaything because he’d started dating someone, it hurt. I’d let myself believe that the hugs and good parts made up for how awful I felt about myself every time I did what I knew I shouldn’t. Even though he’d been taking advantage of me, there had been enough sweetness that it had filled a void and let me have the affection I craved. It hurt again when he told some of our mutual friends about the ‘benefits’ our friendship had had. In his version, I’d begged for it and I was the promiscuous one who pushed for things to go further. Some of our friends believed the truth, but some believed his story instead. Only those mutual friends and a few other people know about this. Hopefully, my parents will never know.

Fly Away Hero? Wattpad? *uses lollipop as a cigarette* I haven’t heard those names in years…

Yeah, FAH is pretty much done, I think. They stopped doing things around May/June of 2015, which was around the beginning of the Great Radio Silence™ before American Idol.

As far as I know, this is the most recent news on the status of the band. This is from an interview Dalton did with…some radio people? while he was doing American Idol, if I’m remembering things correctly. I’m not sure if he still thinks of this as a hiatus, but it kind of seems like the band probably won’t ever get back together. Kitty’s Twitter bio says she’s “not currently in a band but definitely looking” and Knoche is… doing whatever fudgebois do, I guess.

I have a page on my blog with other random FAH info, if you’re interested. It used to be in the sidebar links, but I figured nobody (not intended to be a reference, but ayyyy) cared anymore, so I took it off a while ago.

Man, it’s been a while since I thought about this stuff. Throwback to when I used to write stories about Dalton and post them to Wattpad, lol. I think it’s been like a year since I made all the stories private after having one too many obnoxious ten-year-olds try to convince me that they knew Dalton’s true eye color better than he or his mother would. I still never found out if my stories were genuinely good or if people were just happy to find any Dalton fanfic with proper grammar and sensible plot. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Good grief. Why are people like this?

Maybe it’s just the way I was raised, but I’m always super conscious of any possibility that I’m in someone’s way or inconveniencing/annoying them. I feel so bad when my shopping cart is blocking a product someone wants or if I have to squeeze by someone in an airplane aisle. I can’t even fathom being disruptive during a small concert or talking in a theater or whatever. Do some people not feel shame when they’re very obviously being inconsiderate? My brain cannot compute this possibility.

Casually checking Facebook when suddenly..

A wild TOUR appears!

You guys have seen Ella Enchanted, right? Remember how Prince Char books it away from Hattie when she says all that creepy stuff to him towards the beginning of the movie?

He also hides/runs from screaming fangirls a couple of times.

I’m not really sure what made this suddenly come up in my mind, but it made me think of some of the things I’ve seen tweeted to/about Dalton. In the movie, Prince Char is much more comfortable around Ella than her sisters, because she basically treats him like a normal person instead of squealing at his mere presence (or licking the floor in his castle’s foyer).