Good on you. Stalkers like that deserve a steel toed boot to their face.
Not quite sure if you're aware of the fact that women come in all shapes, sizes and the corresponding demeanours, same as men. Some could stiffle the living daylight out of you just by sitting on you, or merely by their stench when jumping the queue at the grocery checkout. "Victim" might be a misnomer in the context of self-defence, unless you subscribe for a grossly outdated gender definition.
I don't see an issue with using physical violence on women for pleasure / humor but I find it pathetic how simps use it to gain power over women and force them to stay / give them affection. In this sense: How strong and dominant you must be to need to raise your hand to make a woman comply? How desirable and intelligent you must be to need to raise your hand to make a woman stay with you? I've pinched / slapped / punched a few of my exes and flings for entertainment but I'd be ashamed of myself if I resorted to it for other purposes like making a woman do what I want or gain her affections.
"Victim" might be a misnomer in the context of self-defence, unless you subscribe for a grossly outdated gender definition.
Most women share the same anatomy which consists of a lighter bone density and less muscle by default. It's really hard thinking of a man that couldnt beat up a woman really. Unless the woman is a championship fighter she's extremely handicapped.
The first guy I ever lived with used to go into violent borderline rages. Tried to kill me at least 3 or 4 times. I couldn't get away from him- he stalked me everywhere. No place I could hide he wouldn't find me. There were few places I could hide anyway because he isolated me from all connections to the outside world and no one would take me in anymore.
I was 16 when I met him and 18 when I left him. He tried to throw me off a balcony after I broke up with him, and in just a flash no more than a few precious seconds- something woke up inside me that was far stronger than he could ever be. Something that dissociation had kept locked away. He used to have me spar with him, and taught me a few moves in kickboxing. Without even thinking about what I was doing, I kicked him in the face the way he taught me to- with the steel toed boots he gave me for my 18th birthday... broke his fucking face, then walked away for good as he laid in a puddle of worthlessness, tears, and blood. :)
He stalked me until I was 22, but he kept a safe distance from me. I think it's because he knew I would go ahead and kill him if I had to, and his worst fear would be realized. I would step over his dead body and my life would go on without him. Be better without him. I wouldn't just curl up and die myself, without him in my life.