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  • Writer's pictureEdie Montreux


This one is personal, and contains triggers for rape. Sorry not sorry. This is my past and I own it.

I wrote this post a couple of weeks ago, and posted something else because I didn’t know if I really wanted to say this. Addressing rumors sometimes makes them worse. I get that. I also think these idiots need to get their heads out of their asses. I’ve spent a lot of time on this (as you can probably tell), so I’m just going to say it.

There’s a huge misunderstanding about men and women being friends in the workplace, and in our workplace in particular. It’s my intention to use this blog as a way to clarify, but I am aware that my intentions will be misunderstood.

There’s a Randy Travis song that says the road to hell was paved with good intentions, “and Mama, believe me, mine were the best.” That’s the song the gorgeous bastard decided to play when he took me home after he raped me. I suppose it was to help me forgive him, since his intention was to win a contest with the number of points he got for fucking a virgin without a condom.

I’ve come a long way from being that girl, but sometimes people put me right back in that place when they assume something about me based on my interactions with coworkers. I have a few guy friends. We have intellectual conversations over lunch on a weekly basis. That doesn’t mean I’m fucking them.

It was my intention to make more friends than I had in high school once I joined the work force. I learned that I don’t have much in common with most women. I’m not a baby factory. I don’t care for makeup or clothes or the nice things that other women flaunt. I try not to be catty and awful, which means many women won’t talk to me.

I also try not to assume. For example, there’s another married woman at work who spends a lot of time hanging out/flirting with a handful of guys during the workday. That doesn’t mean she’s fucking them in the bathroom. It DOES mean she has a terrible work ethic, and maybe she should try doing her job instead of chatting.

I’m not fucking my guy friends (or my girl friends, for that matter). My best friends at work are not in relationships, which is probably the reason for all the rumors. Don’t get me wrong. I love my friends. I would take a bullet for each of them because they are younger than I am (“You must live!”). However, I love my Lemur more.

My friends are good people. They know not to touch me because I hate being touched. (Except that one time I had mustard in my hair. Then, I just needed a babysitter.) People don’t touch me, and I don’t touch people, unless they make me. Then it’s grudgingly, and awkward as fuck.

(OR we’re really close friends!! I have been hugging more people since I wrote this, but hugs ARE NOT sex.)

I am not a cheater. I have been cheated on. It is the worst hell I have ever experienced. You think I’m paranoid now, you should have met me before I knew Lemur…

Most people who cheat are unhappy in their relationships. That’s not me. I married my best friend, and I continue to love him more each day. I continue to learn more about myself by interacting with him. We share everything, including the rumors that we hang out with the opposite sex too much.

To my haters, I say: shut up, observe, and learn how men and women can be friends. It takes commitment to have friends and still be something more with your mate. Lemur is my bijou.

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