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On the Red Line this evening, saw this guy chatting up this obviously flustered young women - you know, the fear grins, the nervous laughter, the closed body language as the guy peppers her with questions, offers unsolicted information about himself, fast-talkingly drags her into an unwanted conversation via her 'Be Nice' societal training, leans jovially and familiarly a bit closer, then starts touching her on the shoulder occasionally...
Tired of that same old cat & mouse game, I stared a bit darkly at him (him at first ignoring it but then glancing my way and commenting upon it dissaprovingly to his target). As he condescendingly 'joked' to her not to be nervous, don't cry, I lost it and blurted out, "You wanna switch seats?" to her. She stared, perhaps as flustered by the sudden realization that a Scene Was Being Made in Public due to her situation, and shook her head. He gave me a Look and darkly insinuated that this was racism at work. (Oh, yes...as it happened, he had dark skin, was approaching early middle age (just my guestimate) and the young 20-something woman had light skin.) I rejoined as I rolled my eyes to the ceiling that I knew what I was seeing there, too.
Along the way, he called me a 'mean lady' (to which I replied, both musing and mildly amused, "It's true...and your point?" as I realized that it didn't bother me one bit - the old, stock, traditional keep-the-female-in-her-socialized-nice-mode-by-scolding-
her-for-speaking-up comments don't work on me any more.
Not any more.
I got off before them; and sneered and waved as sardonically in return at him as he did at me when I got up and exited the train. Gave her a Meaningful 'good luck' look as I left.
And as I stalked down the platform, wondering if I should have stayed on to make sure he didn't follow her at Park Street, a fellow passenger from that car walked by and commisseratingly commented, "What an @sshole that guy was."
You see? Everyone saw it. Everyone knew what was going on.
And I don't give a f*ck how embarrassed or self-conscious she might have been - I'm glad I spoke up, let her know that it wasn't just her...that we knew what was going on...and disapproved. And that if she really felt she needed help...she probably could get it.
This is what happens when you realize that you have no patience anymore for this kind of sh*t.
You know?
I do believe that I'm going to be one of those relatively crankly, ill-tempered take-no-sh*t old ladies.
And I don't mind at all.
Tired of that same old cat & mouse game, I stared a bit darkly at him (him at first ignoring it but then glancing my way and commenting upon it dissaprovingly to his target). As he condescendingly 'joked' to her not to be nervous, don't cry, I lost it and blurted out, "You wanna switch seats?" to her. She stared, perhaps as flustered by the sudden realization that a Scene Was Being Made in Public due to her situation, and shook her head. He gave me a Look and darkly insinuated that this was racism at work. (Oh, yes...as it happened, he had dark skin, was approaching early middle age (just my guestimate) and the young 20-something woman had light skin.) I rejoined as I rolled my eyes to the ceiling that I knew what I was seeing there, too.
Along the way, he called me a 'mean lady' (to which I replied, both musing and mildly amused, "It's true...and your point?" as I realized that it didn't bother me one bit - the old, stock, traditional keep-the-female-in-her-socialized-nice-mode-by-scolding-
her-for-speaking-up comments don't work on me any more.
Not any more.
I got off before them; and sneered and waved as sardonically in return at him as he did at me when I got up and exited the train. Gave her a Meaningful 'good luck' look as I left.
And as I stalked down the platform, wondering if I should have stayed on to make sure he didn't follow her at Park Street, a fellow passenger from that car walked by and commisseratingly commented, "What an @sshole that guy was."
You see? Everyone saw it. Everyone knew what was going on.
And I don't give a f*ck how embarrassed or self-conscious she might have been - I'm glad I spoke up, let her know that it wasn't just her...that we knew what was going on...and disapproved. And that if she really felt she needed help...she probably could get it.
This is what happens when you realize that you have no patience anymore for this kind of sh*t.
You know?
I do believe that I'm going to be one of those relatively crankly, ill-tempered take-no-sh*t old ladies.
And I don't mind at all.