Thursday, May 5, 2011
Puttin' on the Hits
You know, I'm not sure I have any stories to really rival my fellow word-whores as far as betting hit on is concerned. (Well, unless you want to count this past RT - Jeffe and Marcella can maybe account for the rather interestingly mutton-chopped man who decided that I filled out my SteamPunk corset "nicely." And then it just went downhill from there.)
I don't know. There seem to be several levels of being hit on. When it's flirty and welcome, it can be fun. When it's not welcome, it's a little gross. Like Jeffe, I think I was around 12 or 13 the first summer I really got "noticed". And it was at the beach and the men would drive past us (usually me and my friends) howling their appreciation. (Seriously, at least once or twice I was with my mom...which mortified me at the time, for several reasons.) But that was the beach and as behavior goes, it's sort of expected. People are walking around all half-dressed as it is and leave their brains behind on the mainland, so duh.
Every once in a while I'd get hit on at work, but most of the guys would actually attempt to set up a date so it wasn't overly creepy. Although, I used to teach computer classes for a while and had one guy move into stalker territory. After staring at my feet for most of the class, he actually had the dispatcher look up my address and phone number. And called me. And asked me to come help fix his computer. And then put his wife on the phone so that I would know it was "okay." And no, I didn't go, but seriously? WTF.
My two most memorable stories are as follows:
1) At the beach - working in a t-shirt shop. I think I was 19? Super suntanned and wearing short shorts and all that. (Very laid back at the beach, have I mentioned.) I was just sitting there behind the counter and a group of older guys came in. This was during the whole co-ed naked t-shirt craze, if that helps date the time frame. Anyway, one of the guys looks me over reallllly slow and then drawls out something like "You know, I don't get the whole co-ed naked thing. Do you do the co-ed naked thing?"
And ewww. I don't even remember what I said. Probably something like "Uh. No. Not with you, anyway." (But I was 19 and he was probably 45 and sorta gross, so I guess I can be forgiven.)
2) College. Trip to Ireland. At a nightclub called Baywatch. (Yes, based off the show - Pamela Anderson everywhere! Dancing to the RedNex!) Got hit up with the whole "Do you have a little Irish in ye? Would ye like some?" bit. *facepalms* Also? On the dance floor I had at least one guy delve into mild assault and grab my boobs, telling me to "shake it baby!" Le sigh. Then I had to stop the very drunk American boys in our group from going over there and attempting to beat the piss out of the very drunk Irish boys.
And oh! Nearly forgot - when I worked in DC, I'd get comments all the time while walking from the metro to work. Everything from "Heavy, heavy, heavy chest" to "Go out with me, beautiful lady!" Yeah - fine line between being flirty and being nasty, but there it is.