It becomes clear that for Mr.Liberal, as the sequence went on, and his sophisticated liberal perverse mind got going, it must have been a difficult choice between categorizing me either as lesbian or slut-going-after-the-boss, such dandy conceptual alternatives that crowd his liberal synapses. This is not a mind with double standards, these are quadruple standards. His reasons for looking at me are all so natural and wonderful, evidently, ever so ethical, but I can only be at the opposite end of the spectrum. I am a woman, and, therefore, the deposit of all his projected obscene thoughts and desires. Clearly then, the alternatives are to classify me as ho, lesbian, or ambitious, unscrupulous professional who cannot look at a man without wanting some professional quid-pro-quo orgy as their objective. What more could he want to project? Isn’t that what most liberal women amount to anyways? Where did so much nastiness come from? And they call people who criticize their demented homosexuality obsession as “full of hate.”

The meeting ended, and he alternated between a certain stiffness, mixed with rehearsed informality, and a highly artificial friendliness, it all hung in the air. Perfunctory phrases of good-bye and have a good trip and I was on my way.

With this project director, I know I will only be able to expect more insults and headaches in the future regarding the disgusting, unambiguous, even if non-verbally–explicit way he demonstrated that he had brandished me, all seen through his last looks and reactions.

It’s infuriating. What a vicious trap. And I fell for it. There I went thinking he was actually a decent guy, a nice guy, a guy worth looking at. What a brusque jolt that was.

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