Rightous Anger... Check

There is a bit of swearing in this post; I wrote it yesterday in a steaming rage, and while I am lots less upset today I think that maybe I'll post it just how I wrote it. In all it's cathartic vitriol.

Today I am furious. I am frustrated-tears-of-rage-scalding-the-back-of-my-throat mad. I am wishing-for-a-taser pissed (which is a big deal for me, cause I think tasers should be as illegal, even for the police).
Today Dilly, Teddy and I got flashed by some douchebag.

We were in Queen's park, for our pre-lunch walk, 'cause the weather is awesome today. The park was pretty busy, so we headed off towards our favorite statue (one Mr. Al Purdy - poet), where it's usually less busy; I like to let Dilly off the leash so she can tool around bouncing like a bunny and chasing filthy pigeons.

We passed this guy laying on a bench, and as we get closer I realised he has his hands in his pants; 'eeew gross' I thought, but before I could turn us around he looked up, saw us, then whipped his pecker out and started beating off.

I didn't say anything. Not a word, 'cause the last time I was flashed (this is the SECOND TIME) I read that getting a reaction is totally the fun part for flashers. I also didn't want to scare Teddy by completely losing my shit and shouting at this guy.
But
That silence was hard for me.
That silence made it actually kind of worse that being grabbed by some slimeball in Gare de Nord, worse because I gave that guy an almighty shove and called him a... something that starts with C (and that my mama would wash my mouth out for saying here). Job done, jerk dealt with to my satisfaction... hear me roar.

Doing NOTHING while Chuckles here handled his meat and eyeballed me and my dog and my BABY (making us unwilling participants in his deal) made me feel meek, and I fucking hate feeling meek.
I completely ignored him, but I stomped us right home, fast. By the time we got home I was in tears, I wasn't sad or frightened I was FURIOUS and frustrated (those are the worst sort of tears, I think).

It made me want to move. RIGHT NOW. or yesterday. I am worn down by crackhead-who-might be-dead getting rolled by other crackheads, by the shouting drunks in the playground, and even by the up and down sneers of the cruise by Alex. I just want to be able to walk my kid and my dog without having to deal with an edgy-first-novel's worth of the human condition.
I am done waiting for "just the right place" so we can live like humans. I want to be gone. NOW.