Rape-Free Weekend

I had a lovely rape-free weekend with LawyerBoy. We thought about nothing, talked about nothing, for hours on end. We watched my favorite old musicals and he made lasagna. It was nothing—but it was everything I needed.

I did ask him if he was certain he wanted to put his name on the book we’re working on. He said he had no problem being attached to it. The farthest his career is going is probably magistrate at best, so it wouldn’t negatively affect him—and, more importantly, it’s something he actually believes in.

Then I brought up being attached to my name. Like, I’m pretty sure neither the DA nor the AG will ever forget me at this point. He said it didn’t matter. They couldn’t do anything to him. He does workers’ comp—it’s a totally different set of people.

I had ChatGPT do a bio on both of us—everything it could find—and tell me what our public reputations look like. His had very little beyond the law school classes he CALI’d. It had basically nothing from high school until he went to law school.

Mine was all about this stuff. “Vocal advocate and rape survivor” was the nice way it said it. I’ll take vocal.

So to my regular readers: as you might have seen, I’m approaching the AG candidates for this year. This week I’m doing a brief video series explaining everything because while they’ve shown up, they only half-read what I wrote—if that. Maybe less wordy, less writing an impassioned speech, would work better for me.

But here’s the thing—they’re here. They’re watching. They’re reading, even if it’s only in pieces. And that means I’m not screaming into a void anymore. So I’m going to make it easier to understand and harder to ignore. I’m going to put the story right in front of them, in my face and my voice, until “I didn’t know” isn’t an option. And yes, I’m tired. But hope is a stubborn little bastard, apparently—because I still have it.