My first reaction to this thread was that definitely you are overreacting. There may be any number of reasons for this and I don’t think it implies anything bad about you. I understand the fear – the very literal fear – of saying no. I’ve dealt with that all my life. And it put me in some bad situations–dating guys I didn’t want to date, doing things I didn’t want to do. I don’t like causing scenes or stirring up trouble, and I am very literally afraid of what might happen if I say no. If I don’t say anything, then I can at least sort of pretend I have some control over the situation.
Weirdly enough, your story reminds me of an experience I had in college, with a guy who used to drop by my dorm. One night he came by to chat, and we ended up talking until three in the morning, which was okay that one time, but I didn’t really know him all that well. He kept dropping by and inviting himself in and sitting down on the bed beside me. He would write personal messages on my dry-erase board–one I remember very vividly: ‘‘I think I’m loosing (sic) my mind.’’ He didn’t seem to mean any harm, but it made me very uncomfortable, to the point that I began to avoid him at all costs.
He didn’t know how uncomfortable he was making me. He never would have found out if one of my dorm-mates hadn’t opened her big mouth and told him that he wasn’t respectful of others’ personal space. He wrote me an e-mail apologizing profusely for any unintentional discomfort he may have caused, which made me sit down and really examine whether I was responding to him or whether my problem was my inability to protect my own space.
Seven years later, that creepy stalker guy is now sitting ten feet away from me coding data for a research project. I was never quite able to get rid of him. He’s my husband. No way in hell I ever would have predicted that.
The above anecdote indicates my first hint that something wasn’t functional with the way I perceived others’ behavior. The second hint happened years later, when said husband and I lived in a nice apartment and I was home alone most of the day. A man in our complex became very friendly with my husband while I was abroad. Then he became very friendly with me, offering to do all sorts of favors. I just wanted a friend, but it wasn’t until I was actually alone in my apartment with him that I realized he was hardcore hitting on me. And what’s worse, I was absolutely terrified he was going to make a move.
This guy was massive–over six feet tall, extremely ripped, and for some reason my dumb ass had invited him inside despite some fairly clear warning signals that he was interested. I was absolutely terrified into paralysis – I posted a thread on the Dope about it because I had no idea what to do. I didn’t get that I could say no, until the Dopers on this board slapped me with a few wet trout. I think it might benefit you to read that thread because it could help you see your situation more objectively.
What ended up happening is my husband confronted him. He denied he’d been hitting on me, even told his wife about it to try to put a good face on it, and overall was neither terrifying nor assholish in his reaction. He never bothered me again.
While there’s nothing inherently wrong about feeling uncomfortable in your situation, it may indicate more about you than the actual person you think is creepy. For me, my signals were way, way off for the first guy, and the second guy could have been dealt with by not ever letting him inside my house. The bottom line is nobody is going to stand up for you. I know how hard it is–it’s still hard, and sometimes I still fail. But we have to keep telling ourselves niblet_head’s gorgeous mantra:
[QUOTE=niblet_head]
… it is ok for you to make people mad, to disappoint them, and for people not to like you. Really, it’s ok.
[/QUOTE]
These are important words.
Your words are relevant to a lot of people. I know I’ve been in situations where I felt weird about saying no. It’s always good to be reminded that we need to assert our boundaries when we feel creeped out.