If you are a woman under 28 and a man over 40 says to you:
that you have “an old soul,”
anything about your “zest for living,”
that what he likes best about you is your “curiosity” (or worse, your “boundless” curiosity),
anything vaguely complimentary about your “energy,” “enthusiasm,” or “passion,”
any sentence that begins with “My wife used to,”
that you’re not like other women your age,
that he thinks of himself as “always learning,”
that he’d like to send you some of his poetry that he’s “still working on” and “wouldn’t normally show to anyone,”
anything about that one summer he lived in the Bahamas,
that you inspire him to be more creative and flexible,
“Have you ever read ____?”
that he sees something of himself in you,
that you seem to “think a lot,”
that your work “has promise,”
any sad rhetorical question on Facebook messenger (“when is the last time I even went out on a week night?”),
that he considers himself to be young at heart,
that you “seem sad” when you’re not sad at all,
anything explaining how the stock market works without asking if you already know how the stock market works,
any sentence beginning with “I wouldn’t normally say this, but,”
run until you escape the earth’s gravitational pull.
Tags: advice, conversational red flags, men of a certain age, specific things that happen, these ages are fairly arbitrary so don’t get too hung up on them
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Uuuugh I made out with a guy who insisted I was “not like other girls” because I could quote the Blues Brothers and ordered a Guinness at a bar. WHERE WERE YOU THEN, MALLORY?
“because I could quote the Blues Brothers and ordered a Guinness at a bar”
It sounds like that dude basically wanted to date his own dad.
Heterosexual men can have daddy issues too, y’know.
Ha, the “you’re not like other girls” line! That one always made me laugh-snort.
In other words, “Ordinarily I can’t stand women, but you’re okay!” Guess what genius, that is not a compliment to me, its an indictment of you.
RUN AWAAAYYYYY!!!
‘you seem sad’ ‘you seem to think a lot’ I SEE THROUGH YOU AND YOUR ‘FIXING THE ROMANTIC SAD GIRL WITH MY DICK’ FANTASY
also ‘you seem to think a lot’ is so insulting – like, why does this surprise you bro I am a woman that doesn’t mean I don’t have a brain that works and that I do things with this is a thing that I have in common with many people but apparently not you
*table flip*
oh you know everything women do with their bodies hearts and minds is there to be remarked on or approved of by men
and women don’t think, silly, or if they do it’s about shoes and cooking and idk babies or some shit like that
(I do actually think about shoes a lot though)
(me too)
(and cooking)
(but that’s because I like to eat things)
here’s to being inscrutable and inaccessible to the menz forever, and radically indifferent to their opinions
I’d be like “wait, you mean there’s a way to turn it off?”
Cat Stevens’ “Sad Lisa” she’s waay too young AND she’s sad! Ding-Ding-Ding! we have a winner!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u8VGwX2SV0o
Why, WHY do they always want to teach you about a thing? YOU ARE NOT MY WISE MENTOR, YOU ARE A SLEAZE WHO IS MISPRONOUNCING SARTRE.
Actually, important addendum: Bringing up Sartre in the first place. We are at a party, sir. Unless you are trying to prove to me that hell is indeed other people. In which case, WELL-PLAYED.
Unless they say “Nietzsche is peachy but Sartre is smarter” in which case… never mind, keep running away.
Oh, yeah? Well, Scooby Doo can doo-doo, but Jimmy Carter is smarter!
Rejoinder: “Liquor is quicker and excusemeineedtofreshenmydrinkbye.” [never return]
Unless they bring him up as “Simone De Beauvoir’s boyfriend,” it is No Good.
Like, I COULD REALLY USE A MENTOR. WHO WANTED TO WORK WITH ME INSTEAD OF PUT HIS DICK IN ME. THAT WOULD BE HELPFUL.
THAT THING THEY SEE INSIDE OF YOU
IT’S ALWAYS THEIR DICK
ALWAYS
The man who advised me on my senior thesis is this kind of mentor. On the two occasions when he had small, celebratory get-togethers with his students, he told the same really charming story about his wife, apparently having forgotten that he’d told it before.
Can we add Nietzsche to this list of dirtbag/sleazeball quotables that they love to trot out at whim?
I really feel we should. A list of other potentials: Hunter S. Thompson, Ernest Hemingway, Jack Kerouac, Henry David Thoreau, Ayn Rand.
The most painful for me personally, though, is when they invoke my bro Walt Whitman. Who would NOT APPROVE of your douchebaggery, sir!
Nor would he be hitting on women at parties, so they’re doubly wrong.
I have twice, twice, been given copies of Ayn Rand books by older men who wanted to see me “go far.” I BET YOU DO
I have given an Ayn Rand book to a neighbor who kept dropping by.
“Where’s my copy of the Fountainhead?” said my roommate, two months later, feeling bad enough to try reading it again.
“I gave it to X.” I said. “I told him it changed my life, and that the prose was lyrical and the story taught people how to approach the world.”
“It has been quieter around here lately.” she said, “Good call.”
Well that is a brilliant, high stakes gamble. Well done
Wait, was this my copy of Fountain Head?
If it was, THANK YOU.
You’ve always been an old soul.
You know, age 19, bullshit detector like a 35-year-old.
I grew up surrounded by cowboys. Actual, honest-to-dreadful cowboys. It ages a woman.
Only excuse for any line about an “old soul” is if you’re a young person playing the blues, and you’re Adam Seltzer, and you’re singing a lyric about how the reason you’ve got one is that it was cheaper used.
Every psychic seems to tell every client they’re an old soul. I wonder if there’s a connection?
Uncle Walt would laugh mercilessly!
Anyone who quotes Thoreau to me at a party is going to regret it, because it will definitely set me off on a spiel about the linguistic evidence for pronouncing his last name “Thorough” with detours into anecdotes about his leaf-collecting hats and how he invented the number two pencil, thanks to a formative field trip to the Thoreau Institute in high school as well as my uncontrollable urge to spew trivia.
Then I will probably bring up the Don Henley connection and steer the conversation towards my love of the Eagles.
(Only if I don’t like you, I promise. Or if I’ve had too much wine.)
(Okay, I’m going to bring up the leaf-collecting hat no matter what.)
And honestly, I would be delighted at that. Any anecdote which highlights what a dumb nerd Thoreau was instead of buying into some heroic mythology is aces with me. My favorite thing is how exhausting his friends found him. “Oh my GOD, Henry, ENOUGH ABOUT THE GLORY OF THE WOODS. And please, TAKE A BATH.”
Also you, please, pitch?
You guys could write together! Point counterpoint!
Thoreau (and the Eagles somewhat) has been forever ruined for me by a sleazy college lit professor obsessed with Don Henley. In fact, said professor is much like the 40+ male in this piece. :/
This is probably the best way to deal with Mansplainers.
Pitch?
Haha, if only I could say more than “DID YOU KNOW that Thoreau had a special leaf-collecting hat? True story!”, which would probably not be the most scintillating piece the Toast readers have ever encountered.
I FEEL LIKE THAT WOULD BE ENOUGH, though.
My sister gave her cat the middle name Thoreau, but it’s mostly because the cat enjoys sitting in plants and judging people.
In my case, it was the Henry Miller love that should have sent me running for the hills.
I’m not saying Dostoyevsky is inherently problematic, but if a dude
(a) says Crime and Punishment speaks to the depths of his soul,
(b) likes to think he’s tubercular because he is so Gaunt and Pale and Broody, and
(c) has conceived a hopeless passion for your roommate but will settle for you, and
(d) wants to tell you what you should write your undergrad thesis about,
then it’s time to nopetopus out.
Not that this ever happened to me in college or anything.
OMG if a dude in a 1st world country in 2014 tried to tell me about his romanticized idea of “being tubercular” I think I would just laugh? Or cry. IDK.
But it’s so much more Romantic than being, you know, anemic and skinny! That’s so banal!
Oh man, it was years and years ago and I was, like, 20 and I read too many 19th-century novels and I ate that shit up with a spoon. Such a learning experience.
Yes… this entire list made me cringe at my younger 20s self 🙁
I feel like I would skip directly to “shouldn’t you be in quarantine or something?” Probably I would combine that with backing away quickly.
(Although I’m actually not sure if quarantine is a thing for TB?)
It should be a thing for people who romanticize TB.
They should have to read the MIND-NUMBINGLY BORING Canadian YA novel I just read about being in TB quarantine
Whilst being quarantined
Considering how it’s increasingly resistant to anti-biotics, it was a thing (sanatoriums), and it probably will be again.
Definitely once met a guy whose online dating username was a misspelled version of Raskolnikov (the original was taken).
Then there was the guy in class arguing bitterly that Raskolnikov couldn’t be crazy because didn’t everybody have occasional thoughts about murdering people.
Nope.
Ugh. This reminds me of a guy I dated who pronounced “Nietzsche” with, like, three or four syllables (“Na-chi-cha” or “Na-chee-chi-cha.”) I tried to gently correct him, but apparently the authority of my German BA was secondary to the wisdom granted to him by his penis.
That’s…that’s very upsetting.
Is this where I get to complain about being 44 and all the men my age on dating sites are looking for women no older than 35? But then again, maybe those guys are the ones who are saying all this shit to younger women, so I have dodged countless bullets. Time to take to the sea…
That’s funny, I don’t remember writing this comment here. Hmmm.
dear sweet 8lb 6 oz Baby Jesus. I’m partnered and 44 and the number of getting divorced male friends who want to cry on my shoulder about how all the “good ones” are taken? You know, the under 34, no kids, size 6, super fit “good ones”?
What they seem to instantly have forgotten is that they are 42-45, their wives are divorcing them, and they are far from 20 year old beefcakes.
I’ve *literally* stopped talking to two male friends because the entitlement about the bodies/histories of female partners is more than I could stomach. When one told me ( a woman who is a size 14) that he didn’t want anyone who was “BBW”, I almost ripped his face off.
He tried to backpedal by saying “well you AREN’T!” Too late asshole.
Sounds like you’re going to be awfully busy throwing a lot of dudes away.
And enjoying every second of it
aaaand there’s my twitter bio.
I have been told by guys a decade older than me and a couple years away from an AARP membership that I’m too old. Interestingly enough younger guys don’t seem to think so, so I chalk it up to the looming fear of their own demise.
At this stage I have so much similar data, I just say fuck it and date the younger dudes. They’ve all been really fun & nice so far.
I’m 47, and male, and found my amazing 48 year old partner on OKC. Well, she found me. Anyway, I was specifically looking in my age range and had my own set of troubles finding women who wanted a guy my age. I’m wondering if there’s just something “off” about finding people on OKC. Or maybe it’s just that so many people are “off” in general. Oh, and yea, those guys are total fucking creeps…the ones who don’t actually know a “good one” when they see one. Gah 🙁
Many of these should come without an age limit. Especially the one about poetry.
Yiss, yiss, yiss!
Actual conversation had between college students, one of whom was your faithful correspondent and one of whom was a man who wrote poetry.
[reads poem from his Palm Pilot (this was 2000)] “what did you think that was about?”
“Um… The Protestant Reformation?”
“It was about lesbians.”
[reads another dreary little poem from his pretentious device and asks with an air of what he probably assumed was beguiling innocence] “Was that very bad?”
“Yes”
So he decided to hit on my roommate and never spoke to me again.
A+
Now I want poetry about Protestant Reformation lesbians…
Or prose. Prose works, too.
Ideally named Mercy and Desire.
You didn’t specify what kind of prose.
These are terrible things to say to anyone, but they are most dangerous when they are said to young women who might not have heard them before.
I should have specified that I was talking about the men; bad poetry comes to men of all ages. I agree that older women might be experienced enough to reach for their ear plugs or cricket bat in time.
Worst experience in this field: A man who sent me bad poetry about me. Good poetry about me would have been awkward. This was just ghastly.
Yeah, I got “I wouldn’t normally say this, but,” from a guy I (almost) dated in university. He also called people “comrade” unironically and thought it was a good idea to ask me about having sex right after I’d discovered his history of making jokes about murdering women.
I blocked him on Facebook. Je ne regrette rien.
Calling people “comrade,” whether unironically or not, should generate an automatic Asshole Flag and make you run away. Calling people “comrade” in Russian (usually with a terrible accent) should make you run away EVEN FASTER.
The only exception I can think of is if your grandma calls you a saboteur and/or an enemy of the people*, it is sometimes acceptable to address her as Tovarish Babushka** for the remainder of your visit.
*I was getting in her way in a very small kitchen
**not all grandmas come with a sense of humor pre-installed; please check before you make USSR jokes
If someone who is not from the former USSR makes “comrade” jokes, then don’t run away, start monologuing about the horrors of Stalinism. They will run away all on their own and you will never have to worry about them talking to you again.
“You make me feel so young” HE IS A VAMPIRE
Unless he follows it up with, “You make me feel there are songs to be sung,” in which case he’s not a vampire, but Zombie Frank Sinatra.
EMBY! We made the same joke at the same time! Man, that’s weird.
Whoa. That’s pretty bizarre. You know what they say, great braaaaaaaaaaaainssdsfff
Unless followed up with, “You make me feel there’s songs to be sung,” in which case ALSO RUN! IT’S ZOMBIE FRANK SINATRA!
You and Emby have the world’s most amazing jinx.
The Toast is rapidly becoming a hive mind.
Zombie Frank Sinatra is the title of my new CD of standards, out Fall 2014
It gives a whole new meaning to “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.”
“Witchcraft” also explains a lot
^ Whoa! I think we’re developing into a hivemind.
Resistance is futile!
Aw hell, we did it too.
HOW DID THIS THREAD EVEN HAPPEN
all you got to do to set the world right is find an earnest boy in his twenties who is like the larval stage of one of these men. they are pretty easy to pick out. tell him he is so smart and perceptive, almost like a woman, and that the thing you like best about him is how he is practically one of the girls. so brave and bold. then you tell him you would love to take him to bed and teach him about the world but you feel a responsibility not to bruise his innocence because that is the sweetest thing about him, and he’ll never really understand that until it’s gone.
then you feel better.
The Use of 20-Something Men explained at last!
I remember when I loved men in their twenties so much because they were so bewitchingly old and roughened by knowledge and experience and never had time for someone as young and nervous as me even though I was showing off how smart I was as hard as I could.
and now I am over 30 and glamorous and mysterious myself and they are the ones who try to impress me and I do not care. it is a tragedy.
I don’t know…I still find these 20-something men fairly useless, as the earnest ones still seem to have the mandatory side of asshat thrown in for good measure.
This is true. Just remember, at least as an impressionable 20-something, they still have the potential to be trained.
oh god so much work to train them. not worth it
I found it totally worth it! I had a lovely toyboy who was great fun.
I’m just getting the mental image of house-training a puppy. He’s so adorable…and then he pees everywhere and I have to clean it up.
I’ll stick with my kitten, who is fascinatingly interested in tiny bits of paper and my feet and, otherwise, I just have to feed and clean her littler box and leave toys out and she adores me.
need to thumbs up this a hundred times.
Oh shit — as a single woman over 40, this is officially my job now.
This… may or may not have actually happened to me? Is that why I am how I am?
Hahaha I said all of these ridiculous things in college, then dated an older woman who told me that I ‘had potential’ but needed to get over myself and mocked me mercilessly anytime I’d pull this shit and frequently compare me (unfavorably) to women in our circle of friends. I sometimes think every person I speak to for more than 10 minutes ought to write her a thank-you note.
So much this
Thank God. I had thought it was a lost cause, but now I see that my problem is that I’ve been mercilessly mocking men older than myself.
I…I may have actually done this.
I feel pretty guilty that when I had an assistant who was a man in his early twenties, I took extraordinary pleasure in and advantage of his ability to be interrupted, which is an ability men lose as they get older the way that they lose their vestigial tails as they mature in the womb. by this I mean the ability to stop talking when a woman starts talking, that they may hear what words she speaks. it is beautiful and wonderful, but later they forget that they are able to do this, and once forgotten, it may never be remembered.
*kowtows to your magnificence*
Oh god, I’m going to run away from anyone who talks to me about the stock market
any man who says he’s “not like other men his age”
(I’m looking at you, OKCupid creepers in your late 30s and 40s. Go creep on someone your own age so they can tell you to fuck off. I have too many younger creeps to yell at as it is.)
Also the ones who say “50 (or 60) is the new 30!” Nope. No it’s not.
http://the-toast.net/2014/05/19/age-is-age/
they can’t fool me with that I know math
Yeah, I usually respond with, “Uh, no, because an actual 30 year old isn’t old enough to be my father, and a 60-is-the-new-30-year-old very much is.”
Then they usually tell me I am close-minded and not open to new experiences.
Anybody who says “$AGE is the new 30” is old enough to be told “So ‘Don’t trust anybody over 30’ still works?”
“You look like you have a sense of humor, which is way more important than any age difference.”
Said a MARRIED man at least twenty years my senior on OKCupid. But no worries, his marriage was “dull, dreadful, and dead”, so being a married man on a dating site messaging women young enough to be his daughter was completely acceptable. He also described himself as a “yummy kisser”.
He’s a terrible person, is really what I’m trying to say.
Augh “yummy kisser” is one of the worst phrases I have heard today *vomits*
It sounds like he’d be trying to eat your lips off, slobbering on your chin, and thinking his technique was swooningly passionate and romantic. “Yummy” is entirely too close to “juicy” for my tastes.
UGH NO BYE
Fun fact: I learned over the weekend that I have Resting Sadface. Especially when I am tired. Apparently when I’m tired or just neutral-faced, I look like the muse of tragedy, or terribly sad, or like something awful has just happened to me. My husband first informed me of this on Saturday. We have hypothesized that this is the actual reason why people–people on the street, people at school, people I work with–ask me a lot “Is everything OK?” and “Are you all right?” and “Smile, cheer up!” all of which I hate with a violent and burning passion. Including that one creepy old dude at our apartment building who said I always looked sour like I had just eaten a pickle.
Now I know that I will have to be On Alert for older dudes also informing me I look “so sad” when I am actually not sad at all. Note to all: I am not sad! That is just how my face LOOKS. Now world: stop commenting on my tragic visage.
I have (or used to have, before age yanked down the corners of my mouth) a Resting Happyface.
All my emotions were hidden behind my constant smile. It freaked people out if I wasn’t smiling, and my violent & burning passion goes towards people who act like my not reflexively smiling at them was some personal affront on my part that I had to correct immediately.
We should take our show on the road.
I have Resting Lostface, which makes me glad I don’t live in a major or tourist-y city, because I assume I would probably just get mugged all the time (although I have never been mugged in the times I have visited cities).
It DOES help avoid the awkward “someone assumes you work at this retail place when you are also just a customer” situation that, from what I gather, sometimes happens to people.
I get the assumption that I’m an employee of whatever store I’m in fairly often. I’m not sure what kind of resting face I have, though. My best guess is that my tendency to wear solid colours is a contributing factor.
I have the opposite face! Apparently wherever I am, people assume I am From There and ask me for directions/help. Sometimes in foreign languages.
I get this too, the asking directions part. I guess I look like I know where I am going. This is because I do know where I am going, I like to look at maps before I sally forth.
I get this sometimes and I think it actually is because of my Resting Bitch Face. “That person looks grim; she must live in this city!”
“Surely a tourist would be experiencing more wide-eyed delight!”
I’ve been to touristy cities and everyone assumes I’m lost and tries to help me get places. Like seriously, once every block. I’m not actually lost as I navigate by landmarks, and touristy cities full of those, but still there must be something about my expression.
I get this too! People love to tell me how to get places. Joke’s on them, I forget the directions immediately if I haven’t looked at a map to cement them in my mind.
I have that too. I spend a LOT of energy making my face more pleasant for people.
I get home from work and my whole face is tired and I just revel in the freedom to sit around and frown without people feeling like they gotta comment on it.
YES! This is a big part of why I like my alone time so much.
“I am sad. Sad that you’re talking to me.”
I was in a meeting last week with a woman who seems to have Resting Distraught Face. I’ve never met her before and it took me a while to figure out that she was not incredibly upset and offended by everything everyone else was saying.
I have Resting Morose Face. Over the years, this has led to many a man cheerfully telling me or sometimes outright demanding that I smile. I had this one creeper guy 30-something high school teacher – the one all the female students had stories about, but not enough that administration cared. He used to tell me to smile ALL THE TIME and demand that I cheer up and I would do my best to exude “I’m having none of your shit.” I was feeling pretty distressed about how none of the adults believed he was a problem – even my favorite lady teacher. Then, my mom came home from a parent-teacher night and was like “Do you know, Mr. So-and-so told me he will never teach you again because you don’t smile enough? What an asshole! You don’t wanna smile, that’s none of his business.” I felt much better after that.
Ugh, what a fucking turd. I’m glad your mom had your back, UNLIKE THE OTHER TEACHERS, GOD.
I have this too! One time when I was about thirteen a hotel clerk asked me why I looked so sad. I was very startled, as I did not feel very sad at all and also he was twice my age.
Apparently — at least according to the guy playing the drums whom I passed on the street yesterday, who sang “You don’t have to be so serious!” as I went by — I have Resting Seriousface. Go away, dudes, I’m plotting world takeover here.
Me too! The corners of my mouth naturally turn down and apparently I look very Sad. I’m not. In fact, I’ve never been happier. But that may be because (a) I’m in a deeply committed relationship and (b) I’m about to turn 57 so have escaped Creepy Older Guy territory forever. Whew.
Misread “muse of tragedy” as “mouse of tragedy” which completely changes the tone and did not immediately register as a misreading. I am very interested in/concerned about mice of tragedy. Would they like nesting materials? Would they like a thimble of tea? Some nuts and berries? How can I make it better, sweet mouseling? Should I go away? I will go away, I will leave little treasures and never speak to you, I HOPE THIS HELPS YOU TRAGIC MOUSE.
Possible I read The Mouse and the Motorcycle and related books, just, like, WAY too many times as a child.
This makes me think of Shakespeare’s phrase “mouse of virtue” from Twelfth Night. Never was quite sure what sort of connotations I was supposed to attach to that.
Oh my lord I also read the Mouse and the Motorcycle, etc., many times, and perhaps this is why this comment is SO DELIGHTFUL AND TOUCHING. Were I ever a mouse of tragedy I should be so tragically grateful for your kind attentions.
THIMBLE OF TEA.
Ahhhhh. It is nice to know I am not alone in this. I too have ‘resting sadface’ disease. I am sure that has been the reason I heard SO much of these comments when I was younger… It was like a way in for said douchenozzles.
When i was 17 this 40-year-old guy would always come into the coffeeshop where I hung out and compliment me because I “looked 25” and he would call me Trouble and Jailbait like, he would literally see me and go “HOW’S IT GOING, TROUBLE?”
ewewewewewewewewewEW!
I was at a concert when I was 17 and for some idiot reason let a like 35-year-old guy buy me a beer. We got to talking and he was asking how old I was. His reaction was “Oh my god, I was masturbating when you were in the womb!”
I mean, likely, but also why on earth would you say that?
On the other side of that, I was talking to my (now former) toyboy about the fact that I’d done something saucy that he wanted to try, and he said ‘why didn’t you invite me to come and watch?’ and the answer, after a quick bit of mental arithmetic, was ‘because you were five.’
As it was, we both found it hilarious, and at least we were already at it and I wasn’t just sleazing.
I repeat: ewewewewewewewewewEW!
I was at a concert when I was 15 and I had no interest in drinking or smoking anything or even engaging in conversation and this DRUNK MAN who was probably at least 30 started circling me, and the more he drank the closer he circled until finally he worked up enough drunken garbage truckiness to introduce himself. Stuck his hand out and said his name and I just stood there a second, staring at his hand in mild disgust, before deciding to lead with “I’m fifteen.”
He got closer.
“YOU HAVE A FIANCE? I DON’T SEE A RING. WHERE IS HE”
“No, I’m fifteen. I’m not telling you my name, I do not want to talk”
“WELL YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE A STUCK UP you know what actually you all know exactly what goes here, it’s exactly 100% what you would expect right down to trying to play his predatory behavior off as nice and thoughtful, and at a volume somewhat greater than his Drunk Speech Voice.
I edged closer to my friend and her brother.
So the brother, having heard this, and having allowed me to at least try to handle this guy on my own, turned around and said to Drunk Man, “Hey, she said she doesn’t want to talk, leave her alone.”
Predictably, Drunk Man promptly lost 100% of his shit. But at least he was threatening my friend’s brother with physical violence while spouting vitriol about me.
Finally the guy’s friend noticed what was happening and came over, apologized profusely (mostly to the brother, but whatever), and tried to get Drunk Man to leave with him. Drunk Man wanted to stay and shout. The friend then PUT HIM IN A HEADLOCK and dragged him away.
The friend was wearing a striped polo shirt, backwards baseball cap, and probably khaki shorts, and I have never, before or since, been so glad for the presence of a clearly-labeled frat boy.
Later, as we were trying to leave the parking lot, Drunk Man spotted me and shouted obscenities from his vehicle to the one I was in. I guess whatever he had to say about me was just REALLY important.
Use of the word “jailbait” is the most perfect warning label any man could ever have.
YUP YUP YUP
Actual conversation I once had:
Creepy 45 yr old dude I’d just met: Are you 12?
Me: Nooo… I’m 19.
Creepy dude: Oh haha, it’s a joke! 12 is just what we call anyone under 18 *puts his arm around me*
Me: *flings arm off* Do not touch me
Creepy dude: *actually whining* But you’re not 12!
“I’m not interested in you, either.”
WOW.
GARBAGE. Gar. Buh. Juh. Ughhghghhghhgh
Do not touch me
<3 <3 <3
I’ve been trying to teach my nieces the lesson no one taught me: “Despite tacit societal messaging to ‘be nice,’ it is not your job to keep an interaction pleasant. If someone creeps on you and you feel safe doing it, you can make a scene. You don’t have to smile and be polite. HE IS NOT BEING POLITE. He’s exploiting social norms to make contact with you and assuming you won’t yell ‘GET AWAY FROM ME’ or ‘DON’T TOUCH ME’ or ‘FUCK OFF.’ He expects you to ‘be nice.’ You don’t have to.”
Whenever I see a young woman actually do that, it fills my heart with joy (and, y’know, rage at the dude and at society’s expectations).
God I so wish someone had taught me this from a young age. I think it’s like muscle memory or something. You need to believe it and know it so deeply that it becomes just an instinct cause even a second’s hesitation means you’re (well, I’m) going to follow the bullshit social script while wanting desperately to climb out of my skin.
This is so true and so much my life and I’m really glad I got to read someone else saying it because it’s exactly how I feel about these kinds of situations. Thank you. (And the whole thread for speaking on this topic.)
BRB, printing this off to read verbatim to my daughter. She’s only 11, but I’m not sure that’s too young anymore. *weeps*
Teach her now. It’s too young, horrifically young, but it’s better to be prepared early for so many things. (Let her know that there is an army of angry women on the internet looking out for her and girls like her. We will not hesitate to set a bro on fire.)
Reading it to my son right now. He speaks up when he hears his friends saying shit about girls, but is just learning (at 14) how widespread the problem with girls/women getting unsolicited creeps is. (I mean, he’s ‘learned’ it via my rants, but is learning it IRL via his friends and girlfriend and stuff now.)
Fabulous message, Elsa is Emily!
I got my nickname at university of ‘Scary Es’ for doing just this. The incident wasn’t a perving thing, it was a dirtbag boy who went round a bunch of girls at a party going ‘I get the feeling you don’t like me. Why don’t you like me? Can’t we be friends?’ (none of us liked him.) After about four of my friends had come and gone ‘OMG he cornered me and I had to say I didnt’ hate him’, he did the same to me and when he asked ‘why don’t you like me, Es?’ I said ‘dunno, I just don’t.’ And thus, a reputation was born.
I have a vivid teenaged memory of hollering in the hallway of a party “I’m scary? He’s the one who cornered me in an empty room!”
Sooooo, an older guy isolating teenaged girls at a high-school party to pick ’em off one by one is socially acceptable, but telling that guy to leave you alone is “scary”? Social norms are fucked up.
Weirdly it was easier because he was so much older (though had he been in position of power it wouldn’t have been); it took me longer to fully internalize this for peers, but I have now and it is awesome.
I have the kernel of an article idea, stemming from my first experience at a club in seven years, wherein an extremely drunk bachelor (as in – about to get married) kept trying to feel up me and my friends. My friends politely but sternly told him to stop, after which he kept touching us anyway, with exaggerated “haha! just kidding! I’m going to keep circumventing your autonomy anyway, but in a way where it makes it seem like I’m making fun of myself!” My friends chose to let it slide, but I kept shaking him off and glaring at him. He eventually asked me why, and I said, “because. i. don’t. want. you. to. You got that?”
My mum has also taught me this. She says “if you’re in a situation where you don’t feel safe, you have my permission to swear like a sailor at whoever is bothering you.” I’m pretty proud of her awesome track record for scaring off creepy assholes who tried harassing her in the past.
Well that is irredeemably creepy. “HEY UNDERAGE FEMALE, I AM HERE TO REMIND YOU THAT I, A PERSON DEFINITELY OLD ENOUGH TO BE YOUR FATHER, FEEL IT PERMISSIBLE TO REMIND YOU THAT I SEXUALIZE YOU CONSTANTLY.”
While directly acknowledging that it’s against the law!
Once you’ve escaped Earth’s gravitational pull with a solid sprint to 25,000 mph, you’ve reached basically the same orbit as Earth around the sun, giving you options. You can either speed up by another 25,000 mph and escape the solar system entirely, or go in the opposite direction to fall into the sun, which surprisingly requires you to slow down by about 66,000 mph. It’s easier to leave the sun than to self-immolate.
But flying into the sun is the best way to have an abortion, so there’s that.
Look, either of those options is preferable to ever having to listen to someone saying any of those lines ever again. Brb, taking to the stars.
Taking to the stars is my literal life goal as a poet
My entire alt-academic career plan right now is “join Starfleet.” I might need to adjust this plan.
It turns out you can combine this with taking to the sea, sort of.
Or just run away from all men always. Problem solved.
Oh god, any man asking if I’ve read [whatever] is my cue to GTFO.
I made the mistake of telling an older male coworker that I like science fiction. He started asking me if I’ve read/seen literally everything sci fi. He later sent me an email with a list of probably 75 movies/books I HAD to check out.
“Oh wow thanks for the tip! It had never occurred to me to actually watch any movies or read any books in this genre that I like. You’ve really opened my mind.”
A++
Ugh, they were probably all Heinlein, too.
I miss the days when I was young and naive and could enjoy Heinlein.
Been rereading lately and it is disastrous. Stopping before I get to Stranger in a Strange Land, because I can’t deal with losing my love of that book.
My profile: “blah blah and also I write articles about feminism and nerd stuff.”
Them: “Oh, I see you’re interested in feminism? Have you heard of Anita Sarkeesian? Let me tell you about her.”
With NO PAUSE between Sentence #2 and Sentence #3 for you to answer in the affirmative and shut them up.
One of them went on to recommend an ONLINE FEMINISM COURSE I could take to IMPROVE MY LEARNINGS. Because I was “interested in feminism”.
I am not interested in feminism I am a sodding expert in feminism. At least compared to these twerps.
And it NEVER gets better. Even if you’re a bitch with doctorate in, say, World Literature. Then that means (to the oldster creepers) that you are responsible for ALL of the books (written by men).
So I was showing my son marching band pics from my high school yearbook yesterday (he just got his marching uniform; we had to compare/contrast. He has no epaulettes, poor kid.) Anyway, there was a group pic and I was all “Oh, Mr M! He had a picture of me on his desk.”
And then my son looked at me. And I looked at him. And I was all, “Yeah, I was 14, as you are now. And he was the parent of someone in band. In retrospect, it was beyond creepy.”
God I was stupid. I mean, all I did was listen to him while he chaperoned the games, but, yeah. Creepy.
A marching band uniform without epaulettes is barely a marching band uniform at all.
I mean:
vs 
He doesn’t have a hint of braid on him!
I dislike this Minimalist approach to uniforms. If members of the marching band don’t look like they ran away from home and lied about their age to participate in the Napoleonic Wars, some designer has done something terribly wrong.
This is BY FAR the best criteria for band uniforms I have ever encountered.
I mean, the kid does have a hat with a feather on it (as did I; mine was grander & also had a gold-ish medallion) but it just attaches with a normal strap, nothing that would be suitable for guarding Buckingham Palace or forced marches through a snow-covered European forests.
I will allow certain exceptions for extremely warm Southern states, in which the band members would be at risk of heat stroke if they were buried under too many layers of polyester. MAYBE.
NOPE. We’re in Houston, capital of muggy gross heat (this is the first week it won’t go above 90 every day) and it was all chains and polyester and frogs and ruffled dickeys. I already think my son’s band are wimps because until last week, they were marching at the games in polo shirts and khaki shorts, like TOTAL BABIES.
More layers! No exceptions!
Polo shirts? Nooooooooooo. That is beneath the dignity of any ensemble.
It was atrocious. All the teams we played had bands in full uniform, so at least our band was shamed, as they deserved to be.
What? No! Polo shirts are for the weak!
What about a 3-piece summer-weight wool suit in classy navy with grey pinstripes? Asking for a former college marching band. 🙂
Agreed. I like my uniforms less Star Trek and more Napoleonic Wars. Also more capes!
You’re right – that whole band could be beamed up at any moment. Dislike. 🙂
And being high school students, they all wind up looking like naive cadets pretending to be admirals. If you’re going to wear a uniform that’s clearly too big and too old for your still-developing frame, at least make up for it with lots of braid, epaulettes, and brass buttons.
My high school marching band wore, essentially, track jackets. They zipped down the front. And they matched that with white gloves and berets. It was horrible.
My high school band switched from the Napoleonic Wars look (with long jackets and braid and FULL CROSS BELTS WITH BRASS FITTINGS, for fuck’s sake) to a minimalist, short-jacket, no-stripes bullshit uniform a couple years after I left. STUFF AND NONSENSE.
What, I ask, is the point of a band uniform without a frilly dickey? I mean sure, my high school band uniform was probably just exceptionally old because none of the other high schools in the area had frills going on, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel a keen loss on behalf of my younger sister when they got new dickey-less uniforms two years after I graduated.
With all the various bits of decoration, I had like 15 layers of fabric on and by god, I LIKED IT. Getting dressed was a process!
It’s a time for contemplation, really.
It’s a ritual! Polishing the brass, shining the shoes (WHITE shoes, like winners wear), putting on fourteen thousand different pieces, getting everything adjusted, the whole bit. Got you in the right mental state. Now it’s just overalls jacket and you’re done.
frilly dickey frilly dickey frilly dickey!
(a good chant for men whoa re bothering you, too.)
There is a neverending supply of dickey jokes to be made, if one is so inclined and also 15. Or 29, as the case may be.
Vaguely in the context of musical instruments here, but did they *have* to pick a mountain dulcimer as what the skeezy old guy was playing*?
I’ve already had to put up with crap for wearing fedoras, which are a perfectly good hat for guys who are bald and need to keep rain off our heads and now get blamed for the PUA punks, and now this?
(*When I was young, half the reason that guys learned to play guitars was to impress girls. Now that I’m older, it means I get to hang out playing music with a bunch of grumpy old guys, and some grumpy old women, but some of that’s to be expected if you’re playing stuff called “Old Timey”.)
The fedora is a lost cause, you have to let it go.
I still own the fedora I (a 30-year-old alleged lady) bought for myself at 16. It’s a nice one, too — wool felt, like a fedora SHOULD be.
And I can’t wear it.
MRAs, man.
I know nothing of marching band culture, but dear god I am enjoying this thread.
Because if you don’t run, you will have to listen to a Man Over 40 say, with a straight face “Hey, the last girl I was with was 19, it’s not a problem for me”.
You don’t want that.
Run.
I think I dated him when I was 16. His next girlfriend was 16 too. If he were also 16-ish, not a problem. He was 32.
Let us just say that that relationship was a crash course in who not to date. Good to get it out of the way early, better to have got the memo at 15…
When I was in my mid-20s I realized that the reason a 28-year-old dude I dated when I was 19 dumped me was because he had been under the impression that I was 16 and was displeased to find I was a wizened old 19. I should have realized this when he a) told me his last girlfriend was 16 but “really mature for her age” and b) a week later he started dating another 16-year-old.
Years later I ran into him at a concert and he tried to talk to me but I chose to take to the sea.
Haha….back when I was 21 some man in his mid to late forties gave me the old “Oh my last girlfriend was 21” line. I shot back with “When was the last time you had a girlfriend…20 years ago?” That shut him up for a while.
Men who try to explain you things without asking if you’re even remotely interested:
Coincidentally, Russell Brand is well on his way to being exactly this sort of gross and condescending old dude.
Yes, the irony of the GIF is magnificent.
I wish men would try to Explain Me A Thing more often because I have adopted a policy of “I will listen to this garbage if you will give me money for wasting my time with your garbage” and I have student debt which I would very much like to pay, ideally with income generated by men paying their garbage truck tolls. I just don’t talk to men very often so it doesn’t come up.
I think it’s a great model though, either men stop trying to Explain Us Things or we get money for our trouble so either way it’s a win!
One time I dated a guy who began a story with, “When I was married for six weeks in the Bahamas–oh, ha ha! I guess I’m STILL technically married there!”
The worst part is I went out with him again because he had my favorite sweatshirt hostage at his apartment.
The things we endure to reclaim our favorite clothes. We’ve all been there.
Sometimes a sweatshirt is more important than dignity, which is its own kind of pride.
I think many of them are vaguely aware of your advice, which is why you usually see them doing this to young cashiers and baristas who cannot run. Just holding up the line for aaages, too absorbed in the fact that they have the captive audience of a young woman to notice the other customers sighing and growing impatient behind them. This is one of my all-time pet peeves and I wish I were the type of person who could see it and loudly go “hey buddy, you wanna wrap up your mid-life crisis and let me purchase my groceries before my ice cream melts?”
as a former polite service worker, I urge you to do this early and often.
Besides, no good misandrist forgoes a chance to humiliate a man.
See also: cornering young girls on public transit. It’s not too bad on most subways, where the girl can probably get off and catch the next train, but on the bus, it is just torturous to see: you know she can’t just get off the bus without enduring a largish inconvenience at best, and if she waits for her own stop, she risks revealing the location of her [home/work/hang-out spot] to a dude who’s already proven himself willing to corner her in a closed environment.
… and I think I just talked myself into performing a “clueless and friendly” intervention opportunity the next time I see this happen: I’ll just scootch over and say “Hiiiiii! How are you?” to the girl and see if she grabs the lifeline.
There was a guy like this on the bus I took every morning in high school. I, and a couple of other young women, made a point of sitting next to each other because he’d only approach girls on their own. I was so glad when I aged out of his target group (at 16).
I was A Proper Grown-up and still occasionally suffering this: a fellow student used to take the same route I did, and he just would not leave me alone, no matter how studiously I was reading and taking notes. And for some reason, I continued to be polite about it, while he continued being rudely oblivious to my demurrals.
Then one day he put his hand on my knee.
It wasn’t even a gesture of flirtation. He just… put it there, as casually as you might put your hand on an armrest.
[SEQUENCE OMITTED]
He does not speak to me on the bus anymore, nor indeed make eye contact with me on the street. I have seen him slink out of the bus queue if he sees we’re lining up for the same bus.
Oh my god, the bracketed fight scene is killing me with suspense, although I do enjoy the freedom it gives me to imagine any amazing scenario I want.
I would love to give you a rundown of the stone-cold burns I dropped on that guy, but I simply do not remember the conversation at all, which means I was impossibly furious. I just remember him waving his hands and assuring me he didn’t meeeeeeean anything by it* and me shutting him down every time he tried to tell me to “calm down.”
*which, hey, WHO FUCKIN’ CARES WHAT YOU MEAN BY IT? Not wanting to bang me doesn’t give you a free pass to lay your hands on me willy-nilly.
Ugh I’m so late to this thread but the “I didn’t meeeeean anything by it!” thing is the WORST. it’s a form of gaslighting in my mind – he gets to act like you’re crazy for getting angry that he’s in your personal space.
I was at a party a few months ago where a man shoved my stuff out of the way to sit down next to me on the couch. I was too drunk to have a filter so I rolled my eyes and told him he could have said “excuse me.” His response was to insist that it was his couch, and then to put a hand condescendingly on my thigh. I politely told him I didn’t want to be touched by him. “Well I don’t meeeean anything by it, I’m just being friendly!” he says as he moves the hand up my thigh. I tell him again not to touch me and he gets up in a huff and tells all his friends what a crazy bitch I am.
“Don’t get scared, get angry” is like a catch phrase in our family.
You don’t even have to be a young girl! There’s a guy on my bus home sometimes who attempts to chat up various people, myself included, and I have answered curtly and then patently ignored him on multiple occasions to get him to stop. I really don’t care if he thinks I’m unfriendly.
Just think of all the coffees you’d get on the house.
One of the few joys of working part-time at a convenience store is humiliating dudes who like to inappropriately hit on me.
It was nerve-wracking at first, but I get a lot of practice 😐 so now I’m really good at it 😀
It’s like you’ve seen my father in action. He’s a Narcissist and worse, and is pushing 70, and filthy and weird and creepy, and thinks that they all find him irresistible. He refuses to absorb it (or else gets all butthurt and dismissive) when I point out that they’re just laughing because they’re stuck there and polite. I think I might try the “hey buddy…” thing if I’m ever stuck in a line behind him. Though I hope not to be.
This reminds me of another pet peeve of mine (related to my irritation at my elderly Narcissist father, no doubt) that I first developed while pregnant and waiting around for blood tests in hospitals, when I noticed that elderly men are always trying to get the attention of others by talking AT them. I might feel a little sorry for them, except that the “others” are *ALWAYS* young women. WHY can’t they talk to women their age? Or men of any age? They might couch it in “you are going to accept some of my down-home-y wisdom, young person, I refuse to be invisible!” terms, but in that case why not talk AT and demand the attention of young men? Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you’re entitled to the listening ear of an accommodating young woman to make you feel young again. Over time I cultivated resting bitchface and an air of not understanding English.
I’m in a line of work where I am often 1) the only woman and 2) the only one under 40. I consider guys doing one or all of the things on this list like taking a dog on a road trip – you have to stop every once in a while to let the animal do his business, run around, get over it, and then you can get back to the task at hand.
That being said, I do crack out a lot of the sad late night facebook missives I receive at parties because holy hell they are funny.
Except that men are not actually pets, and sexual harassment is not actually the same as an unavoidable bodily function.
Yeah, but you get outrage fatigue if you approach things reasonably. You just build a wall, and say “Inside this wall, ridiculous shit happens, and if I respond to it the way I think is best my job will be terrible; I am the only woman here, and just existing in this space is making progress. I don’t have to fight every battle.”
I know, and we all have to decide when we’re going to argue, and when we’re going to let sexism turn into background noise. I just spent 3 hours re-reading Captain Awkward’s post on creepers and missing stairs, so I’m primed to get extra annoyed every time I hear somebody express the view that harassment is just a thing that happens, and we should learn to adapt our lives to it.
Oh! I remember reading through those, and feeling growing rage for the shit I’d been trained to tolerate! They are excellent!
I think here we need to draw a line between harassment that makes you feel unsafe; the sort of thing where when there’s another woman on the job site, you want her to know, and you also know you’re going to sound weird intense about where the fucking stair is – and dudes who have a… very traditional idea of how women should behave, and also not a lot of experience communicating with women they are not dating or trying to date. The later is fucking irritating, and a little uncomfortable, but sitting quietly while they stupid all over is often an effective strategy.
Also sometimes they are great buffers with the actual harassers. Traditional gender roles can be great when you want someone to protect you from getting hurt again. (I’ve worked in conservative fields; people who harassed me got short aggressive talks from coworkers about what was appropriate. I’m now vacationing in academia, and suddenly the feeeeeelings of my harasser are paramount. Maybe that fucker is socially inept! Let’s just, you know, have me avoid places where he’ll be!)
Yeah, as much as I hate the “women are fragile and I must protect them” mindset, I’ll totally take advantage of it if I have to. Conservative men have to be good for something once in a while.
Both of those things are true, but it is pretty much impossible to work in any traditionally male field without using mental defenses like this. It’s better to save the “ARE YOU F++KING KIDDING ME? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW GROSS YOU ARE?” moments for truly egregious behaviors. Like one coworker referring to another’s five year old daughter as “a beautiful china doll, they grow up so fast, she’ll be trouble”. (all the vomit, all of it)
I mean I want to answer things like, “you’ve been working late recently, does your husband miss having dinner ready when he gets home?” with something to the effect of, “It must be so hard, not knowing how to feed yourself, I can’t imagine. Thankfully, my husband is an actual adult who can pour his own damn cereal.” Or to explain without any condescension that we take turns preparing meals when we can.
But in reality, it’s a lot easier to just stare blankly at them and then get yourself another cup of coffee. Double points if you just stare at them while you take the first couple sips before walking away.
Right, but I think it’s important to keep in the back of your mind that it’s not ok. Comparing them to pets just helps us normalize their behavior internally; I’m not sure how to phrase it best, but I think how we frame male behavior in our own minds (and how we frame our coping mechanisms) is just as important as how we respond externally.
Argh, phrases I heard from one senior guy in particular in my old role:
“You’re here late, isn’t your boyfriend hungry?”
“Wow look at the time, doesn’t your boyfriend get lonely?”
[watching me pack up some work to take home] “You know a married woman should never take her work home with her.” This is a guy who was proud that he got married on his lunch break and went back to work that afternoon. He then explained why it was okay and expected for a married man to take work home.
And most creepily:
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but has anybody told you that you really look like the Mona Lisa?” It wouldn’t have been THAT creepy, but he kept going on and on about how I shouldn’t take it the wrong way and just, dude, stop. (Fun fact – since then, multiple independent people have made similar comments in less creepy ways and when I mentioned it to my Mum she said she got the same comment when she was my age. Some people have resting bitch face, apparently when concentrating we have resting enigmatic Mona Lisa face.)
I wish I had awesome comebacks for these comments but I was a graduate in my first job and instead just kind of laughed nervously. I did bring it up with my boss, but in a completely unexpected twist he just told me ‘oh I know, but that’s just Richard, what can you do?’ Apparently ‘your job?’ wasn’t an option.
During my annual review a few months ago, my then-supervisor (an over-40 man) praised me for being “eager.”
ugh i remember this and it is still so gross, it will be FOREVER GROSS.
My still supervisor (gr) told me I needed to “be sweeter” in my last performance review (which was overalll bad but that was the icing on the shit cake). My jaw hit the floor and I couldn’t even sputter a response I was so angry. At this point I’m job hunting and just waiting for a good performance review to exit out on (ideal fantasy: submit good performance review to HR. Wait 30 seconds of delicious anticipation. Call HR again and give 2 weeks notice.)
Argh, I totally had a male boss who, despite the fact that I did my call center job professionally and had a low average call time, told me I needed to be “more friendly with my coworkers”. I saw these people for maybe 15 minutes a day outside our weekly meetings, and I was a good 10 years younger than most of them. I was polite, but A. I am never going to be friends with these people and B. I have no interest in being part of the self-pitying comment/reassurance cycle one of my (male) coworkers had everyone else conned into. And that shit made it onto a performance review.
Whyyyyyy is it not enough to be polite at work? It’s okay if you’re not all besties, as long as it’s not clique-y or toxic.
UGH. Why are you reminding me of my days in retail, and being 19/20 years old. How often did I hear, “You aren’t bitter like older women.” Let’s roll our eyes so hard until we need physical therapy to ease the muscle strain.
“Your skin is so smooth and perfect” RUUUUUN
What’s funny is that I (31, woman, married) look at 20-year olds and think this.
The best part of that one is that it’s so self-defeating. The older women probably wouldn’t be so “bitter” (read:unwilling to put up with this shit) if they hadn’t had so many creepy guys saying creepy shit to them for their entire lives.
Exactly. “DUDE you created this situation.”
I just thought of a guy from a million years ago. When I was twenty I was chatting with this dude who was like forty and he said, “I love sweetbreads. I should take you out for sweetbreads because you probably haven’t had them. You should learn about sweetbreads. Once you try them, you will understand what I mean.”
(I should mention that I had grown up in a restaurant kitchen, and had been eating assorted forms of offal since I was a baby.)
I never went out with him.
Gee. I wonder if people like him are responsible for any of that bitterness :/
I know you told us not to get hung up on the fairly arbitrary ages, but I had already gotten excited that this would stop happening now that I am 28. I know how the fucking stock market works.
It will never stop, as long as there are men mere minutes older than you.
What Megano! said. Sigh.
The difference is that when you are over 28 you don’t have to run, and can instead stare into the middle distance and see how long it takes for their batteries to run down. It’s only when you’re under 28 that you have to run in case you feel obliged to respond with good manners or something.
I’m sorry to have to tell you, but I’m 35, and all that happens is that older men drop some of the “you seem sad” and “age is just a number” stuff (but by no means all of it), and continue explaining and recommending things to you, and younger men JOIN IN with explaining and recommending things to you.
I’m 43, and the good news is that now that I’ve passed the Magic Number, I’ve automatically become invisible to that kind of asshat. Now nobody explains or recommends anything to me. It’s pretty great.
Yeah, I’m 44 and it’s the same for me. I didn’t notice exactly when the invisibility cloak of middle age descended on me, but it is pretty great.
The I.C.M.A. is the best for avoiding these kinds of jackholes, but also for discreetly checking out hot guys on trains and in other public places.
(Notice that I do not go up to hot guys and try to talk to them, Pervy Old Men. Appreciating from a distance is very different from acting on your Baser Urges.)
Huh, they still try it with me, but
A. they are rarely, if ever, trying to get into my pants, which means their instruction and blather lacks a certain urgency and persistence;
B. my patience has worn thin over a lifetime, so I deploy my withering laugh, dead-fish expression, or straight-forward “Don’t lecture me” almost immediately.
I’m going to be 36 next month, and it still happens. all. the. damn. time.
“I can’t believe you’re reading a book about [any intellectual subject], that’s amazing. Good for you.”
Not age-related, but patronizing and terrible nonetheless, this is a message I received on OkCupid:
“Hey! I enjoyed your profile. Nice to have something somewhat refreshing.
My guess is……zero…..guys get it? I might be wrong, but from comments I see on here, there’s not a lot in the way of brains on this from the male side! G’day!”
This is all pretty fair warning at any age to run in the other direction (speaking from the ripe old age of upper thirties up in here).
If an older dude ever says “age is just a number/mindset” YOU PUNCH HIM RIGHT IN THE TACKLE. Also if a younger dude says it.
TACKLE!!!!!!!!!!!!
Can we please add “Let me show you the city” to this? With obvious bonus points for an added “I mean, the real city.”
Oh, shout out to the guy who picked up my sister & me outside the youth hostel in Budapest. He knew that city (emphatic gesture) “like the back of my hand!”
(Turns out: he knew a lot of sleazy spots.)
AHH SUDDEN FLASHBACKS OF BEING 26 AND IN ROME AND THAT 50-YEAR-OLD GUY MY MOTHER’S FRIEND KIND OF… GAVE ME TO AS A PRESENT. I mean, not really. But she fancied him and somehow thought pressurising the mid twenties girl he kept obviously creeping on to spend time with him was a good move, I dunno.
Cue tours of the city, arms flung round me, announcements of how young at heart he was, at how very much not into my mother’s friend he was, and how I looked like a “vestal of Rome.” Which was interesting, because if that was so it ought to have been a sign in itself for him to give the fuck up, right?
But Hestia, though.
“Let me show you the city; the fake city. You know, the one for the tourists.”
Once, on a plane to Australia, Man Over 40 and his bro-tastic teenage son both attempted to offer to “show me the city” at the same time.
Unrelated, but <3 your username.
Someone tried that on me on the tiny city I have lived in for 21 of my 28 years. You know, the city that is approximately 8 miles across if you include the dull suburban bits.
He was surprised to find out I knew more interesting places in it than he did.
“Did you enjoy the sex scenes in my novel?” Twice. Two different male writers, one brilliant, one a hack. Mind you, in neither case was it difficult to decide to run as fast as possible in the other direction.
“Oh, I always skip the sex scenes when I know the author. It’s always so unintentionally revealing, y’know?”
IF ONLY I HAD THOUGHT OF THAT. I just sort of laughed, although I was too young to make the laugh sound fully dismissive. (In the brilliant author case, I was working on the page proofs, so that wouldn’t exactly have worked.)
Maybe just a brisk-but-vague “Oh, the sex scenes?” as if they’re not very memorable?
“THAT’S what you think sex is? Huh.”
“‘Enjoy’ them? Huh” [pensive pause, as if that idea is unfathomable] “No.”
“HA HA HA not really.”
i have been getting the whole old soul spiel since i was 13 (at that point, from probable predators) until now, and it’s just awesome living my life as a hologram of “girl muse”
I am in my mid thirties.
I was not too long ago on a date with a guy probably in his mid fifties. He asked me “what exactly was I looking for” and I told him. In what, I feel, was fairly plain, easy to understand English words (a language in which we are both proficient). When I was done he looked at me for a long, smug moment and said, “You know what, I don’t think you REALLY know what you’re ACTUALLY looking for”.
To recap – I am in my MID THIRTIES. It never, ever stops.
Did you stab him with a fork and leave him with the bill?
I did not, because I didn’t have a fork since we just got coffee.
But when he asked me out again (because of course he did! Sometimes I am like, were we on the same date? Didn’t you notice that went really poorly??) I told him he just wasn’t what I was looking for, whatever that is.
A+ RESPONSE, WOULD THUMBS-UP AGAIN
The condescending, oblivious blather never stops, but we get better at spotting it for what it is.
I don’t get why men in their mid-fifties think they improve with age. It’s not like you get a get-out-of-aging card that women don’t. If you think grade school negging wins you a second date, you need to reevaluate your life.
Loool I went on a date recently with a dude, and it was clear about 3.4 seconds in that there was just no chemistry whatever, so I just let it all hang loose and was completely blunt about being happy as a single, never married lady in her midthirties who really has no desire to be married or have children ever. And when he asked me questions about “what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?” I told him about my wild past dabbling in body piercings of many intimate types. He was all boneriffic and “TELL ME MORE” and I was like,
“Nah, that’s boring and they’re gone now, moving on.” And when he asked again was I really happy being single, I told him I really really REALLY am OK with being single forever if that’s what it comes to, because my own company is better than settling with some boring dude just so people around me can feel comfortable that I’ve done the “important things” a lady needs to do (because apparently it doesn’t matter that I have a college education and a fulfilling life without a husband and/or children), he kind of sat back and pursed his lips and said (approvingly, UGH DON’T YOU GET THAT YOUR APPROVAL IS LITERALLY THE LAST THING I GIVE ANY FUCKS ABOUT, BORING DUDE?), “You’re just so mysterious, and that’s so attractive to me.” MYSTERIOUS?!?!?! I JUST FUCKING TOLD YOU ABOUT MY NIPPLE PIERCINGS AND ALSO MY LIFE GOALS AND BECAUSE NEITHER OF THOSE THINGS INVOLVED PUMPING OUT BABIES FOR YOU OR ANY OTHER DUDE, I’M MYSTERIOUS?! I wanted to barf and scream and take to the sea on a boat of pure rage and exasperation all at the same time.
In short: DUDES. UGH.
Let’s throw in any version of “when you’re older, you’ll learn_____” and “I found your (insert creative work) really impressive for someone your age,” hi neither of these turn me on they just remind me that you sound like a dad
When I was a 19-year-old pursued by middle-aged men, a chirpy “You sound like my Dad!”* was a 98% guaranteed boner-shrinker.
The other 2% were, um, yikes.
*It was always a lie. Dad, you spouted some nonsense, but you respected people of all ages and I thank you for it.
I remember once being aggressively grinded on on the dance floor by a bald mid-50s man in the sadly now-defunct Manray club in Cambridge. The bouncers were apparently uncaring or powerless, and as a foolish young thing of nary twenty years of age, I was unable to muster the appropriate amount of not-being-polite. In a panic, I responded to his overtures with “Oh yeah, I thought you recognized me! Don’t you work for my dad?”
BOOM. Gone.
“you remind me of me when I was your age, in a way,” he says.
you grip his shoulder. you turn to him suddenly, your eyes shining with crocodile tears
“a-a re you trying to tell me you’re my real father?”
“what”
“I’ve been looking for my father for years. you’re him, aren’t you?”
“what”
“DAD. how did you and mom meet?”
“I’m not your father”
“DON’T LIE to me.” you cry more crocodile tears.
“I–”
“the father who raised me would never turn me away”
“I–”
“you think I care about this biological link between us? because I DON’T”
“I–”
“You never came to my soccer games,” you say. “you never came to my science fairs.”
“I–”
“did you even think about me all those years”
“I think I’m going to go”
“YOU WERE NEVER A FATHER TO ME”
storm out to the sound of thunderous applause
Look, I wouldn’t normally say this, but I find your old sad thinking to be boundlessly zesty.
I could have used this about 10 years ago. All of these things and it cumulated in the dude asking me to marry him in the middle of a dungeon crawl. I had to awkwardly turn him down as I was 17 and just wanted to kill orcs at that time of my life.
If they can’t behave appropriately while playing a game, they can’t behave appropriately elsewhere.
You are so very wise.
Hilariously, I felt bad for embarrassing him in public. It didn’t occur to me that he’d started it, because feminism hadn’t yet gotten its hooks in me.
(Also I admire your screen name very much)
more like feminism hadn’t got its bell hooks in you
Also, thanks! And yeah, I definitely still have those emotional responses to stuff like this. Like, “oh no I’m hurting his FEELINGS I’m making it awkward.” It takes so much time to get to the point where you can say, “No, he hurt my feelings by not respecting me first” and “He made it awkward first, this is his problem and not mine.”
The phrase I use to remind myself of this truth is “Let it be awkward.” [eta: that might be a straight-up rip-off from Captain Awkward or someone similarly awesome.]
I didn’t make it awkward; he did, and he did it with the confidence that I would scramble to do all the social and emotional work to make it not awkward, because that’s the role women are groomed to play.
But I won’t. He made it awkward; I’ll let it be awkward.
Creepy Haiku of gross things that old men have said to me unprompted:
You are very lithe.
Those are mysterious eyes.
You remind me of my ex.
Lithe? LITHE? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I write romance novels, I’m totally fond of the word, but used in conversation?
Eughhhh.
Yeah, and I think it probably by law has to be said while sliding your eyes up and down the young thing in front of you.
Creepy Haiku of specific things a creeper on LiveJournal once said to a young woman after seeing her userpic:
You look very young
Come and sit on daddy’s lap
Cherry blossoms fall
(the cherry blossoms were added by a friend)
love it/hate it
HE SAID LITHE? Run, run as fast as you can ( you lithe cheetah, you)
Mysterious eyes?? How are your eyes a mystery, unless perhaps you have contacts lenses printed with the riddle of the Sphynx or your eyes made out of tentacles, it would be a mystery how you could see with those.
Why yes ‘mysterious’ is the most common descriptor basic dudes give me. It sure is a mystery how I don’t seem to want to listen to their crap.
at a work christmas party the IT guy, who was probably in his 40s (i was… just 22, i think) got VERY excited by me having read the hitchhiker’s guide. he told me that i was secretly a man of his age in disguise…
me: everyone’s read that book.
WHAT A WARNING SIGN IT WAS. he proceeded to get way drunker and when i left the party he told me to stop wearing my glasses as a “favour” to him, and he said it would open various “career opportunities”. he took my glasses off my face.
me: no, thank you.
then i took the glasses back, and left. and cried.
space-time continuum-bending me will be there any second now to punch that guy in the nose before he gets a chance to even approach you.
ARGH! hands OFF!
I am so so angry for you. NO ONE SHOULD EVER TOUCH SOMEONE ELSE’S GLASSES WITHOUT PERMISSION. (I am a very nearsighted Toastie and would be useless if I didn’t have my glasses.)
Don’t touch anyone’s body OR their belongings without permission. EVER. This is basic stuff!!!! Why do so many people not get it?
Oh lord, that’s just nasty. Also dude, seriously, everyone has read that book. Usually in their teens sometime before they discover Pratchett.
UGH OH NO. Once at a dinner with a client the client’s older creepy IT guy told me about how he was a virgin for a really long time but then he lost his virginity to a woman he met on the internet, and then his boss told me to go out with him and I was like “haha I have a boyfriend” (I didn’t really) and then the boss was like “so what I’m married” and then went back to hitting on my horrified co-worker.
Anyway.
And the worst:
It’s so funny when you get all mad and worked up.
That’s the worst when ANYONE does it, not just inappropriately older men.
YES WHAT IS THIS. “You’re so cute when you’re angry!” “It’s so funny when you’re angry!”
MOTHAFUCKA I WILL KILL YOU
“it’s cute how you don’t understand how to appropriately react to human emotions without dismissing them
you piece of garbage”
Wait until you see how adorable my fist is when it is in extreme close proximity to your eyeballs.
Because I assure you.
It is
so
adorable
“Feisty”.
*shudder*
Oh, jesus. For many years I went out with a man who was 22 years older than me. I didn’t actually get any of this shit from him, but it came in a DELUGE from other people who felt the need to comment on our relationship.
ew ew ew ew my brother in law once told me that he liked younger women because they don’t know how to ask for anything yet. Needless to say he was terrible for my sister and I was delighted when they divorced, but through the magic of codependency, he still reappears on a regular basis.
oh my GOD
Is now when I mention he has a greasy ponytail and a masters in philosophy? (of course he does)
OF COURSE HE DOES. Tell us what particular type of terrible facial hair he has!
Jesus. At least he was honest. Like, that’s what all these other guys are saying but in more obnoxious words, so..
Right? Like somehow it’s less maddening when someone doesn’t try to veil what a shithead they are.
Ehhhh I think that makes it worse! Like these other turds might just not have realized they’re awful, which is bad enough, but not quite so horrific as someone who acknowledges that they intend to manipulate young women and is proud of it.
Yeah, but I usually try to correct the ones who think they are doing something right and it is futile. The straightforward ones are terrible people, but I can be sure of that from the outset and I don’t have to waste my time with them.
In my mid-twenties, a male friend* listened to me talking about the obvious manipulations a guy was trying to play on me. This friend then sighed and said “I’m only dating 20-year-olds. They don’t know yet.”
EW EW EW EW EW EW EW EW
I mean, I knew he was a creep, I just didn’t know he knew it.
*He has since changed his ways, but STILLLLLLLLLLLL
ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
ew.
Still looking for that mythical internet equivalent of an old man bar.
good luck
Enough said … Approaching escape velocity …
Two others that I’ve received, personally:
1) “You’re my muse.”
2) “Most guys’ problem is that they can’t understand women at all. My problem is that I understand women too well.”
tell me more about what a burden the mysteries of womanhood are on you you poor distressed little soul
if you’d like we can stop womaning so much so as not to overtax your world weary brain
oh wait
Never compliment anyone on their hourglass figure. If you’ve already done this and the woman is staring at you, don’t assume she misunderstands you and explain to her what an hourglass is. Please don’t gesture.
1. One of the first guys who kissed me (I was going to say “whom I kissed” but that would be really inaccurate — I was trying to get out of the situation but none of my social training would allow me to do so), when I was 18-ish and at Comic Con, was a 35-year-old dude who said, among other things, “Why do I always fall for the wrong girls?”, “Why am I always drawn to younger women?”, “I connected with a girl at a concert last month and then found out she was 16, and it was so painful”, and “I think you’d do well in the Army.”
2. A 40-something who goes to temple with my 26-year-old roommate has been creepily pursuing her for months. When she led part of the service on Rosh Hashanah he found her mother in the audience to ask if my roommate had a boyfriend, and when roommate’s mom brushed him off he gave her his business card to pass along.
3. My teenage sister’s roommate has had an almost thing with a guy my age since last year (when she was still in high school). It only finally ended when he admitted that he was never going to leave his long-term girlfriend for her, but added, “So I think we should all have a threesome.”
In conclusion, men are monsters.
OMFG my high school boyfriend did this (the threesome thing) to me when I found out he was cheating on me with someone else, and I was too insecure to tell him to fuck off. He eventually made me watch Chasing Amy to convince me that that would work. All I could think was “I think you missed the point of the movie.”
…Holden’s plan is self-evidently the WORST PLAN ANYONE HAS EVER HAD. It directly causes his girlfriend and his best friend to dump him. Why would someone think that would work.
“I think you’d do well in the Army.”
“Yes I do enjoy killing things.”
“Men especially. Here if you like me so much why don’t you let me practice on you it’ll be a zesty and thrilling experience for both of us”
Actually, CAN I JUST ADD:
Why is there a certain kind of man who feels compelled to confess to you all the girls he has been attracted to “before realizing how young they are”? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you because I’m not the only teenager you’ve drunkenly hit on? As your girlfriend, am I supposed to think it’s cute that you thought my sister was hot when you first met her WHEN SHE WAS TWELVE but only because “you thought she was older” and “she looks just like me so really it’s a compliment”?
“that he sees something of himself in you” Automatic response: “That something will never be your dick, just FYI.”
We need an extensive list of misandrist responses.
HA! My boss told me this, and I think he was mostly just trying to be a (slightly smarmy) mentor, but holy god I wish I could have said that.
Not doing these things seems like it should be obvious, but I might have to set up an alert to email myself this article once a year until some time after I’m 40. “Do you do any of these things yet? If no, proceed with life! Have a root beer float! If yes, STOP STOP YOU ARE BECOME THE ENEMY. Fix post haste”
My personal favorite Man Comment (read: the one that drives me into the blindest of rages) is the “you don’t know anything about politics because you are Too Young and don’t know anything about the Real World.” Buddy, I am literally a political scientist by trade. Sit your fiscal-conservative-but-social-liberal ass down and never speak again.
The other day a man implied that I did not understand privacy on the internet, and really just the internet in general. I am a software developer. He is… well, he is a troll, and beneath my notice.
“You should listen to The Cure.” “You should read Saul Bellow.” “I was never really into Langston Hughes, I feel like he was elevated for political reasons.”
I still have the type-written stage play in a mailing envelope somewhere.
I WILL NEVER WANT TO READ SAUL BELLOW OR DON DELILLO STOP TRYING
I’m currently reading my first Saul Bellow novel, and let me tell you: You don’t miss anything valuable.
(Sadly I am kind of unable to leave books unfinished, so I will just slowly and angrily make my way through it…)
i’d just like to say they say it to women in our late 30s and early 40s. it just doesn’t stop. also, this was hilarious–to the tears–especially the tables on age demands: http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2014/sep/…
“Boundless enthusiasm” = C cup or bigger.
I did a spit-take at my desk. A++.
No, that’s your “talent”. Sailor Moon taught me that one.
No, the “boundless” is definitely meant to direct the mind to both bouncing and overflowing.
Unless you are fat. Only skinny girls with big tits get that one.
tries to get you to ride his Vespa
tries to connect with you via Morrissey
“I love that Zach Braff”
When I was 20, I met a guy in online chat who was 9 years older than me. I was young, and dumb, and ignored the poetry, Henry Miller, manpain, “nobody understands me but you”, and various other red flags. Six(ish) years later, after having grown tired of not being skinny enough, motivated enough, caring enough, or willing to sacrifice enough, I left.
Hilariously (in retrospect), he complained that he was “never going to date another younger woman; you just treat me like a finishing school and then leave!” Huh. Maybe it’s because we outgrow your immature ass, and it’s not OUR problem but YOURS.
Oh my goodness…when I was 19, I became involved with a guy who was nine years older than me, and he was a Narcissistic, controlling, creepy douche and it took me six(ish) years to leave him. He never wanted me to be skinny because it might make me attractive to other guys (and he actively tried to make me gain weight while mocking his uncle for doing that to his aunt–pot/kettle), but the rest of it–YES. When I finally wised up and left him, two choice gems that he thought would be sure to change my mind were: 1) “I’m diabetic and I won’t live long, so I need SOMEONE to bear my kids before I die, and if you leave me I’ll have no one,” and 2) “It’s not fair, I’ll never find someone else so hot and young, so if you leave me I’ll never get to date a young woman again, like I deserve. You can’t just LEAVE! Don’t be shallow like the rest of them!!” He was shocked when this didn’t work. SHOCKED.
Oh, hello, flashback to the time I tried to break up with a guy and he had an asthma attack and fell off my bed so I stopped and agreed to go skiing with him instead. Haven’t seen you in a while, thanks for popping in.
Oh, I’m so sorry to have prompted something like that!! I have those every once in a while, and they’re crappy. Did he orchestrate the asthma attack on purpose? Mine would deliberately sabotage his blood sugar whenever I had some kind of big event (new job, research paper deadline, final exam, etc.) coming up, or if I had a migraine and needed to take care of myself, so that I’d be compelled to take care of him instead. Bonus points (in his mind, apparently) if I didn’t get enough sleep. It kind of makes me LOLvomit to contemplate now.
as a college freshman i once went on several terrible dates with a guy who was a senior and obviously wanted to seem wise…but we went to the aquarium and he said a dolphin was his favorite fish…which to this day reminds me so much of this: <a href=”http://hhttp://lostbetweentheletters.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/bats-arent-bugs.jpg” target=”_blank”>hhttp://lostbetweentheletters.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/bats-arent-bugs.jpg. And then at dinner he was like, “wine for my lady!” without asking, and we got carded as one would obviously be carded in boston when two young kids try to buy wine, and I was like, “no that’s ok, I’m actually only 19, but I’d love a water with lime in it!”.
Anyway when I said I didn’t want to see him anymore, he basically asked me to rate him…like a “how was our service card”, you know? And I said…I don’t even know what you mean…and he eagerly is like, “THAT’S OK I’LL GO FIRST” and writes me a 3 paragraph…epitaph? I think he said something about my dichotomous nature…with my childlike sense of wonder but my womanly intellect and even now thinking about it makes me feel a bit nauseous and like laughing my ass off. That poor dude. What a mess.
Later on he started dating this girl and he would bring her the cafeteria and forcefully make out with her while checking to see if I noticed. I didn’t notice, my friends pointed it out. Eeesh. I kind of enjoy how my brain isn’t even remembering his name anymore…maybe it was paul?
“I see something of myself in you.”
Is…that supposed to be a compliment?
Ahhhh! Get it out, get it out!
It is his penis. Always, always his penis.
Only acceptable coming from Jenna Maroney.
Or perhaps a premonition…
Well, eventually you will be a woman in your 40’s and the guys in their 40’s will be saying these things to your daughters and nieces. But you will still run into guys in their 60’s who want to talk about the stock market and complain about their ex-wives.
this is why I just don’t talk to men
As if that’s enough to get them to stop talking to you
Yes, when the 60-year-old guys approach me at meetings and conferences I say hi and gracefully exit the conversation as soon as possible. I’m invisible to the 40- and 50-year-olds, but just the right age to be condescended to by the old men. No thanks.
I’d avoid this if it’s someone more than about 8 years older than you, not just the over 40 creeps.
I’d strike everything after “this”…c
That he lives in a Dumpster. As an experiment.
You know, this might be what finally makes me talk to the theater dept at the (women’s) college I attended about casting middle-aged men opposite eighteen-year-olds. Once again, I wish the Toast had been around when I was younger.
(Also, why *aren’t* there ever movies where an older man just mentors a younger woman without trying to get a leg over her? For every sweet “Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont” where an old lady teaches a young man about life and they share a wonderful inter-generational friendship, there are five “Venus”es where the older man is really just trying to get the young woman’s clothes off!)
Because if there’s anything When Harry Met Sally was supposed to teach us, it’s that it is impossible for men of any age to be platonic friends with women of any age. BARF.
I actually had a guy tell me that, without a hint of irony, after wondering aloud at one of my (male) friends tendencies to ask me a lot of questions about his relationships/other women in his life (said friend has never done this in a creepy way, btw, we’ve just been friends for 10+ years so we both are pretty open with each other). “Oh, it’s because he knows he’s never gonna sleep with you. Once you get that question out of the way, there are SO MANY filters that get removed, because, like, it’s never gonna happen!” …yuuuuuppp…
Supposedly Winston Churchill’s answer to the question “Do you believe in platonic relationships?” was “Only after, never before.”
Buffy (the TV show, anyway) is the only thing I can think of that had a non-creepy vibe between an older gentleman and young woman.
wait, where do the men come from in these productions? just, like, around the neighborhood?
They’re local actors, mostly. My big issues with the practice are a) casting a professional actor in a college production is depriving a college student of a chance to act and learn; and b) even though, mostly, the actors are a good bunch and the department head has been good about getting rid of creepers, there has been a certain amount of ick over the years. Like, I look back and go “That fifty-year-old guy telling us he’d like to go back to the dorm and play Truth or Dare with us was totally overstepping boundaries and must have realized that! We all shrugged it off and said ‘What a creep’ and got on with our lives, but we shouldn’t have had to shrug it off in the first place!” There’s been an effort lately to recruit (traditionally) college-aged men from local schools, which I support, though personally I think if cross-casting is good enough for the Donmar Warehouse it’s good enough for here.
One of the things I like about Billy Wilder’s Sabrina (which is flawed in a lot of respects and mostly features two older dudes battling for Audrey Hepburn like she’s a mannequin) is that Sabrina has her bourgeois Parisian makeover at the hands of an elderly man who just thinks she’s sweet and hangs around Europe for a while to apparently chaperone her. But naturally, all that’s undone by the way Bogart totally builds up a fake persona purely in order to lure her in and intrigue her so that he can use her. Older dudes: THE CORRECT ANSWER IS ALWAYS NO.
Oh god when I was 22 I worked in a job with some older men. This one dude who was like 48 managed to get me alone in a bar and told me I was “compelling” and that “being intimate” with someone more experienced would help me get over my ex. Vom.
I’m a natural redhead. Creepy old men love this.
When I was 17, a guy my dad’s age sidled up to me at the bus stop and said “I’ve always believed that for a woman to be truly beautiful, she needs to have red hair.” He then told me his entire life story and claimed to have coined the term “hogwash” when he was working for a community newspaper in the 70s.
Yep.
I think the bit about “hogwash” qualifies as irony, yes?
Now, to send this back in time to 17-year-old me….
A creeper professor from my undergrad friend requested one of my bff’s, and she friended him for shits and giggles. He has literally sent her every single one of these comments, usually at wee hours of the night and likely while intoxicated. I posted this on her wall, knowing that he will see it. #misandry
This comment is even better because it is attached to your username.
(Casaubon is all of this. All of this.)
Should I mention that this dude’s specialty is the Victorian novel?
I generally stop most stupid shit with “I have a PhD”, which confuses and befuddles most men.
Unfortunately, in my experience, it doesn’t work if they also have a PhD – or even if they’re in the process of getting one.
Ah, in that case I bust out the obscure Russian Theorists while maintaining uncomfortably direct eye contact.
The only man to survive that was someone with a PhD in International Law specializing in Socialism.
He was delicious.
I salute you, madam.
I am also enjoying the ambiguity of that last line.
I used to tell guys in bars that “I am a construction lawyer” cause that would shut them up 99% of the time. But the one percent… oh the one percent was even worse.
I don’t tell guys anything in bars anymore. I just don’t even talk to them.
Woman….can read….??…woman more educate than me….?! unpossible…..
I’m really lucky to work in an office where senior management doesn’t tolerate creeps. Two men who have creeped on me were the first to be “let go” during “layoffs” after I reported their behavior to their managers.
Creep #1 – Age 40+: He complained to my boss that I kept declining his lunch date invitations in Outlook. He apparently didn’t get the hint after the tenth rejection. My mom taught me that I don’t have to have lunch with nor talk to anyone if I don’t feel like it, ESPECIALLY anyone of the male persuasion. He argued to my boss that I always had lunch with his predecessor and it was part of his job. His predecessor was my gay work husband and we were friends…it has nothing to do with the job buddy.
Creep #2 – Age 40+: He stopped by my desk and just stared at me. When I asked if he needed something (like tape, a pen, a ruler, etc.) he replied, “No I just like watching you work.” HELL TO THE NO. This man also approached me in the kitchen while I was washing out my coffee mug and said that there was nothing sexier than a women doing domestic chores. I immediately dropped what I was doing and marched straight into his boss’s office. He was forbidden from talking to me after than and was let go a short while after.
Jesus christ!
In what universe is #1 a thing to complain about to his/your boss??
Good god damn – I’m glad you complained, I’m glad they’re gone, and I’m glad you have supportive management. But good god damn that either happened at all.
“I LIKE THIS ONE!”
that’s great, buddy, did you have to shout it to the entire bar, why don’t you just keep talking to me instead of making loud declarative statements about your people judging feelings
Is there anything more pitiful than a man who wants so very badly to comment on this post, but for reasons probably involving cruel censorship and a lack of interest in rational debate, is prevented from doing so?
Cannot WAIT to see the deleted comments for this one.
After seeing your comments this morning I am trying to figure out which of my web-savvy friends would be excited to make a webpage that replaces words in Mallory’s posts with the Bender-appropriate equivalent. Maybe I will teach myself to do it, how hard can it be?
Yes, yes, I support this, everything about this is an excellent idea.
[for anyone wondering: https://twitter.com/logicbutton/status/5166296493…]
To quote the line given to a friend of mine, “you look just like my daughter’s friends” is one for the books.
On the other hand, a friend of mine told me that my then-girlfriend-now-wife and I were “disturbingly alike” in our interests… (On the other other hand she’s seven years older than me.)
Ok, so, on the one hand I am thankful for this post and all the comments which taught me a lot about creepyness – I never stumbled into one of those guys. My most creepy experience so far was that some 40-ish man approached me (21) on the street, and suggested if he might lick my arse & between my legs. Also, he wanted to marry me and have children. D: D:
But, here’s the “on the other hand” part: I am also super confused. The main thing I want to talk about with people of _any_ age is either literature or my writing / their writing, because reading and writing is basically anything I do. So, how do I tell the creeps from the ones who are genuinly interested in talk about writing and take me serious as a person?
(This question sounds super silly, but I’m serious. I’m really not good with people and the fact that I would take some (not all, by far!) of those quotes above as compliments (ie if somebody says my work has promise) worries me a little… Send help! [And socialising skills!])
Red flags include: talking over you, repeatedly changing the subject back to themselves, telling you that your opinions are wrong.
When I was in my 20s, I was at a hustler bar in West Hollywood and this older guy, probably in his 50s, started chatting me up, probably thinking I was working. When I said that I was in law school, he said how interesting that was, when, in fact, there is nothing interesting about being in law school. What I am saying is that guys are pretty stupid and will say whatever damn fool thing pops in their heads that they think might get them laid.
When I WAS in law school and looking to pick up cheap lays (that was another time in my life), I would tell dudes that I was a communications major at the local community college, and also that I needed them to help me by pretending to be my boyfriend because *that dude* over there was being really creepy.
WORKED EVERY TIME.
I was basically a female PUA and it was sooooooo easy. Fish in a barrel.
Just occurred to me that this might be a good place to laugh/cry forever that it actually came to pass that Roman Polanski thought he should make a film version of David Ives’s Venus in Fur.
I kind of liked that film. Are you objecting to its artistic merits or to the fact that Roman Polanski, an attempted child rapist, made a film about power plays and sexual politics?
Oh. I guess I just kind of answered my question.
But his wife was very good in it.
There’s no “attempted” about it. He DID it; he has admitted he did it. I’ve promised myself never to see any films by any of the people who signed the “petition” in his favor. They are absolute hypocrites; if he’d drugged and raped THEIR daughters… well, that would be an entirely different matter!
Any man complimenting you on how understanding you are. STOP UNDERSTANDING AND RUN FAR FAR AWAY.
This goes for any age, so possibly not a valid part of the list.
These guys are always married and/or living with someone else while dating you for several years not that I have any personal experience in this area.
Ugh, yes, especially when there are social connections.
I have been “accidentally leaving facebook open” and ignoring one as much as possible. If only it were easier to avoid while tailgating/trivializing.
“I’m too old for you but” followed by a comment that would have be innocent without that antecedent.
The doughy, mustached SAT tutor who was so excited I had enjoyed Tess of the d’Urbervilles… how did I not see?
“You won’t attract men with your arms crossed! Uncross your arms!” shouted at me on a busy club-street at night as I walked with a group of friends.
The mind-blowing amounts of unbelievably obvious responses I could have shouted back have haunted me for many, many years.
I…think of any man over 40 as my Dad. “My Dad’s middle-aged. My Dad is old, he has a bad back.”
When I was a bit of a pretty boy tradesman in my early twenties, there seemed to be a lot of older Anglophile guys around. They all liked the idea of a bit of lower class rough ( apparently me) who they could impress with Oscar Wilde and Evelyn Waugh quotes. It was kind of funny and sad at the same time as I’m a bit heartless about that sort of sentimentality and tended to laugh in their faces.
Wow, linking to this post on FB sure helped me to clean up my friend’s list! Thanks!
At a friend’s wedding when we were about a year out of college (so I was probably 23), I was approached by a middle-aged guy, a complete stranger, who said to me, “I’ll bet you’re the type that fucks all the old fathers.” I have no idea what I said to him in reply. I was shy back then, but I had had a lot to drink and possibly told him to buzz off. I know the conversation went no further. But I’ve never forgotten his comment, because WTF??
D:
um
…what?
god.
Under 28? Then why I am still hearing men over 40 saying this to me? Is it because I’m still single and childfree? Or is because they have no other phrases recorded into their memories.
I’m so glad this exists! Long live The Toast!
35? If I remember correctly, women on OKC look for someone slightly older than themselves, but no older than 48. Men on OKC looks for someone slightly younger than themselves, but no older than 22.
Alas, there are plenty of over-70 men who love us ladies in our 50s because we make a great “purse and nurse”.
Oooh, I wanna play! When I was in my mid-20s, a co-worker in his upper 50s, who had previously told me (why? no idea) that he was bisexual and his marriage was ‘one of convenience,’ told me he had considered applying for the newly-open director position in my department, but decided against it because he ‘wasn’t gay enough to be my supervisor,’ along with a gross eyebrow waggle. Hurl.