I’m sick of creepy, old men. They’re oblivious and lecherous. And they’re incredibly annoying.
Take last Friday night. I dashed out to run some errands while Paul was making dinner. On my walk home, I had two questionables say hello to me. As if I’d respond! I just glared at them. And in the one store I had been in—liquor grant you, but still—I had the older guy who worked there be “all take charge” and treat me like a “lil lady.” Gross.
Often I walk to Whole Foods at lunch. A week doesn’t go by without some creepy, older guy trying to talk to me. Sure, I’m a woman and I’m relatively used to it, but maybe I’m getting more annoyed as I get older (cumulative annoyance) or by their aggression. San Francisco creepy guys are definitely more aggressive than Toronto creepy guys.
Here’s an exchange I had one day:
“I said hello. The polite thing to do is to say ‘hi’ back.”
Well, THEN I responded. I told him that I have a choice about whom I want to talk to and I didn’t want to talk to him. I told him to leave me alone.
The thing that astounds me is that they expect a response, or for me to be overjoyed by their overtures. Haven’t they heard of playing fields? I foolishly thought everyone was born with a radar – an awareness of whom they can “get.” Maybe these men have lost that awareness along with their waistlines and their teeth. Of course I’m beautiful to them! Any woman aside from Medusa is!
A complete creep made me jump out of my skin a few weeks ago. It was around 10 p.m. I was a block from home and waiting at the lights of the busiest street in the city. I was checking something on my iPhone. This horrible, gruff voice started telling me how…exquisite—yes, I believe that was the word—I was. He was so close it felt like he was breathing on my neck. I actually was scared. Since cars were still flying by, I could only take a step or two to put some distance between me and Mr. Wheezy. I turned to see who the freak was. There was this crazy-haired, fat man, eyes aglow, hands a flutter, spouting out what he saw as my virtues. I couldn’t even say anything I was so in shock (and fear). I did note that he may be stoned before the light thankfully turned green. I avoided the desire to run and instead walked quickly away from him. Shudder.
I have a theory about why I get all of this horrible, unwanted attention from these pathetic guys. I’m small and relatively short. I have lots of attractive friends and sure, like all women, they get bugged. But I get bugged quite a bit more. My only other friend who has to put with the same amount of inanity is also short. I think we look like easy prey.
I hate creepy, old men. I’m going to get some mace and blast them all.