Polish Accusation (July 2019)
It was a beautiful warm summer evening in Poland. I was sitting in a beer-garden in my shorts and sandals, celebrating the leaving party of Igor, a young Ukrainian man whom I had taught English for the last six months. He was flying back to Kiev the next day, and I was flying back to London for my summer holidays.
Igor was a very sociable, popular man-about-town who had organised and hosted many parties while he had been here. The current one was being attended by lots of young people who he knew at the local university. One of these people was Dominika, a slightly plump and very pretty girl with round spectacles, long blonde hair and ample breasts, who studied Chinese. I was keen on this girl and was in the process of chatting her up. We were sat at a table with three other people, two young ladies and a young man. It was nearly midnight, and I had been drinking for several hours.
A girl called Magda appeared. Nineteen years old, with a fat round face, dark complexion and long black hair. She was Polish but looked Middle Eastern. She was not attractive. She sat down at the table with us and glared at me like I was a pubic hair in a bowl of caviar. The good humour at the table vanished.
“What?” I asked her. “What’s the matter with you?”
She sneered at me with all the contempt she could muster, “I know all about you and Ola.”
I was confused. “Which Ola?” I asked, as it is a very common female name in Poland.
“You know Ola,” she scowled. “The one with the curly dark hair.”
“Oh yes, what about her?”
“I know all about you sexually harassing her.”
I was speechless. For several moments I didn’t know what to say. The rest of the company at the table was speechless too.
Ola was another young student, a plain girl like her friend Magda the accuser, not very attractive. I had met her a few weeks earlier at one of Igor’s parties and spoken to her for some time. We had got on very well. I saw her profile on Facebook as we had a few mutual friends, so I sent her a message out of friendliness and a desire to expand my social circle. My message had said: “Hi Ola, how’s things? It was nice meeting you at the party the other night. What are you up to this weekend?”
Apparently, this constitutes sexual harassment in the minds of some people.
Finally I found the words that I needed.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Magda didn’t answer. She just tossed her head, scowled at me like I was the scum of the earth, and sat there glaring in the silence.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I continued. “What gives you the right to come here and accuse me of shit like that, without any evidence, without…”
“Right, that’s it!” she shouted, holding up her hand to me. “Don’t talk to me! I don’t want to talk to you anymore! Get away from me!”
I leant towards her and did some sneering of my own.
“You,” I said, “are a Feminist cunt.”
“Why, because I don’t want to fuck you???” she snapped back.
Again, I was speechless for a moment.
“What the fuck? Why the fuck would I want to fuck you, you fucking ugly cunt?”
And with that, I stood up, hacked up a load of phlegm into my throat, leant over the table and spat in her direction. She screamed as she shifted around on her chair trying to avoid my spit that was hurtling down towards her empty fat head.
I walked away, back towards the bar, in order to remove myself from the situation. But she came running after me, shouting. By this point Igor had appeared, to find out what all the fuss was about.
“He just spat at me! What kind of guy is this? He has no respect…”
Her sentence disappeared into a high-pitched squeal at that point, as I hurled half a pint of beer into her face. It was a shame to waste it, as it was Schöfferhofer wheat beer, one of my favourites, but ultimately worth it, I think, to see it cascading down this obnoxious shitbag’s moronic face.
She got off lightly, because she had a vagina.
Igor led me away from the scene and asked what was going on. But I couldn’t be bothered to explain. I just said I was tired and needed to go home so I could get up early for my flight the next morning. We walked out onto the street and I wished him good luck for the future. Then I walked home. End of story.
If Magda had honestly thought that I might have sexually harassed her friend, there were of course far better ways that she could have handled the situation than behaving like a complete imbecile.
Instead she could have taken me aside and spoken to me in private. She could have asked me if there was any truth in the accusation, instead of automatically assuming it to be correct. She could have got more information from me by speaking to me in a mature, civil, reasonable manner, by actually treating me like a human being.
But she did none of those things. Her attitude, right from the beginning, was one of disrespect, aggression, malice, judgemental self-righteousness and imagined superiority.
And this girl didn’t even know me. She knew nothing about me. I had never met her before.
She wasn’t interested in being reasonable or even factually correct. She was simply interested in bringing me down in the eyes of other people. The girl was just a sociopath.
Weirdly enough, I do not take kindly to having my name dragged through the mud, in public, in front of other people, with totally false, malicious, unsupported accusations. I don’t think many people do. That’s why it’s a crime. It’s called slander. It is totally unacceptable behaviour, and I don’t see why anybody should get away with doing it.
So, if somebody treats me this way, then I respond by spitting at them and throwing my beer in their face.
And I don’t see any reason whatsoever why I shouldn’t.