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Spent the day with a friend, she fought off a rape attack. No, she's not someone anyone my list knows. Bruises everywhere, he was talking, when he could, about how beautiful she was until he hit her face and her eyelid spilled blood, at that point he ran off.

Oddly enough, because of the looks she's been getting, she's feeling a lot of shame, even though she gave him a good fight, and reported it as well as going to the hospital, so if they catch him, they can prove the assault. It's not his first, he's targeting an area, targets known to follow a consistant routine. If she were a guy, she'd be getting high fives 'cause the guy didn't get anything he wanted.

She says it was clear to her she was the one really fighting, he was trying to fend and grab, pummel, not devastate. She's five feet, he's five ten. Near some school in the Richmond by 29th and Geary.

He has short wirey hair, Latino, and thin, with a thin face & a moustache and a beard running along the jaw line.

I think, I hope, by the end of the day, she understood how much respect number of us have for her. Personally I think any fight you wake up the next day from, is a win, but she had a different set of goals, achieved all but taking him down and she feels bad.

Thankfully one of her jobs is letting her come into work with some heavy shiners, but again, she's feeling like she's terribly lucky about this and I keep thinking if she were a guy, or simply in a rowdier town, no one would think a thing of it, but to be proud.

Floors me sometimes, how much little respect we're willing to give ourselves. I'm hoping to spend more time with her tomorrow.
Part of what's ironic to me, is she also sees herself as a "never was pretty, middle aged..." I can't recall a day she actually looked bad except when she pissed me off, (annoyed) or was pissed ( and I mean drunk) herself.