Here's a potential #MeToo story I may have avoided tonight:
Sitting at the bar at the Brewhouse West, Nashville, watching football and preparing to watch a Red Sox game on an adjoining screen, and I see across the way a very attractive brunette, not noticeably more than 15-20 years younger than me, and therefore “within reasonable range.” I notice her, but do not make any sign of such. As I sit there she seems to be looking in my direction, with a steady gaze. (There is a football game on the screen behind me, as there are on screens all around me.)
I pick up my glass to sip my pint of Yazoo Dos Perros; at the same time, I see her pick up her glass of similarly dark beer and take a sip. I rub my chin beard, and wipe my mouth; moments later she runs her fingers across her chin and then her mouth.
I start to be intrigued, having read about this stuff, how women may show “interest” by aping the physical moves of a man. My fantasies are now going into overload: how I walk over and say hello, and we end up walking out together, going to her place or a motel, spending hours exploring each others' bodies and so on . . .
She also seems to be throwing her hands up for no particular reason, and I squint hard to see . . . no discernible rings on any finger! But she is still sitting beside this other guy, and every so often she turns to speak to him, so my own insecurity keeps me rooted in my seat, and eventually she sits back, and turns to look at the other screen behind her, checking out another football game. After a bit she turns to speak to the guy next to her, and a while later they get up and leave together.
There was a time when if I had had a buddy sitting at the bar beside me, and I had confided in him what I had just witnessed, he would have said, “Go for it, Dude! She's hittin' on ya!” And I would either have summoned the courage to take action of some soert. Had I been brave and assertive enough, I might have gotten up and walked over, introduced myself and asked if we had just “shared a moment” – or some such comment – and discovered whether or not it had all been my imagination.
In another time that might have been acceptable, but in the context of Brett Kavanuaugh's alleged teenage behavior, Al Franken's apparently “joking” actions, and all the other things that fall far short of rape, but fit under “inappropriate advances” . . . I may have saved myself from a real problem – one I hardly need at my age!
