Search Results: he stopped calling

So, my boyfriend, my mom, and I went to a small town, and I wanted to drink a smoothie. I pleaded with them to take me to a café where a man was singing live. I was happy listening to the music and enjoying my smoothie. But once I was done, I wanted to leave, while the other two were still singing along and enjoying themselves.

BUT I WAS TIRED OF THE VIBE. I wanted to leave right then, so I sat there, making my desire to leave clear on my face. Yet they kept ordering drinks. I couldn’t take it anymore—I just wanted to leave. I was tired of listening to the music. So I decided to take a walk outside.

I left and crossed the corner. When I wanted to return, a dog blocked the way, so I took the long route.

When I came back, my mom told me my boyfriend had gone looking for me. Thirty minutes later, he returned sweating. He had run all around the town, imagining the worst. He convinced himself I’d been kidnapped by human traffickers or killed in the forest (I’d been gone less than 20 minutes).

He even showed me statistics about how many women are kidnapped per year. Then he gave me the silent treatment because I wasn’t taking him seriously—if anything, I was laughing.

Finally, when they took me out of that putrid café, we went home. While driving, he talked to my mom about how I should be responsible for myself. Something about noticing an old man following me, waiting for the opportunity, etc. Then he suddenly stopped talking because his arm started stinging—from his hand to his ear.

When his episode ended, he said he has a heart abnormality where it beats faster than normal and he’s prone to those issues. He hadn’t had one in two years.

So, who do you think was in the wrong? I don’t know if I was irresponsible or if they were being dramatic. They’re calling me selfish for leaving the café without telling them. But from my perspective, the café wasn’t the vibe, so I left—as I should have.

I trained for a different type of job and got it. He was in a higher position, and after a few months, he gave me an ultimatum: either work in his office as a personal secretary or submit my resignation. When I left, this hideous-looking baldy—who eats alone on Valentine’s Day—gathered a group of similarly unattractive Indian men, and they laughed at me.

He also claimed I wasn’t capable of doing my job, even though he barely shows up at the office himself. The job of his personal secretary involved clerical work and sitting in his office all day. I trained for a position that earned me my own office, because I’m skilled and knowledgeable—I’m not someone who should be doing clerical work. My job profile was entirely different from what he tried to force me into.

I filed a complaint, but they ruled in his favor without giving any reason. In fact, he was even appointed as one of the members of the investigation team.

So when will American media stop portraying Indian males (I refuse to call them men or even boys) as innocent, funny nerds? I consider this behavior not only toxic, but dangerous.

Stop showing sexist Indian criminals as harmless, funny nerds. That’s like calling a nuclear bomb a firework. I can expose them little by little—because I see their real attitude.