I'm on my habitual Afternoon Walk, a 20-30 minute affair that takes me through the neighborhood closest to my office, and includes a portion of a trail that loops around a local park. I'm on the phone with my Mom, whom I haven't had a good conversation with in almost two weeks, so I have a lot that I'm blathering on about, both personal and business, all at a reasonable volume.
I'm not sure when, exactly, the blond man gets onto the path ahead of me- I'm not paying particularly close attention to him or any of the other half-dozen people in the park, most of whom appear to be itinerants. But I do notice him walking, ponytail swinging, maybe ten feet ahead of me. He takes a side trail out of the park into the neighborhood, the same one that I typically follow.
When I exit the park, now out of sight of the others, there he is- standing still, watching me intently. It's a little creepy, but hell- maybe he's meeting a friend. I walk past him, still talking loudly to my mom about mutual fund families (don't judge). As I pass him (within grabbing distance, I now realize, but I wasn't thinking in those terms at the time) he says, "You're really pretty."
"Thanks," I say, somewhat curtly. I appreciate the compliment, but I am, quite obviously, on the phone.
"What are you doing later?" he says to my back.
"Working," I say, with more of an edge of my voice. It's 3pm and I am wearing a business suit.
"Hey, can I get your number?" He calls, now that I'm over a block away.
"I don't think my husband would like that," I say, not turning, but raising my left hand to let my ring flash in the sun. One the other end of the phone my mother says, somewhat incredulous, "Are you being harassed right now?"
"Yep," I say, teeth gritted. He doesn't say anything else, and he doesn't follow me, so that's the end of that, fortunately.
Sort of.
Because, you see, now I'm annoyed. I'm annoyed at the guy for being so rude as to talk to me when I'm already having a conversation, but mostly I'm annoyed with myself.
Why did I even answer him when he asked what I was doing? And if I was going to continue to respond out of some bizarre sense of politeness, why did I fall back on the coward's excuse of a male partner's displeasure? Why didn't I just say, "No." like the independent, unapologetic woman I am?
Why why why.
I mean, I know why. Because if you say "No" they want to know why not. Always. Or maybe they just call you a bitch, thereby jumping ahead to the exchange's natural end. If you throw up a "hey-another-male-has-already-peed-on-this-object" excuse, they have a salve to their pride that lets them retreat gracefully (or sometimes they perceive it as a challenge, but that's another set of stories altogether). So yeah, I know why I did it, but if anything that only increases my annoyance with myself: what the hell, O. Way to take the coward's way out.
(Or, to put it another way, the safe way out.)
It's so hard, sometimes, to live up to our own ideals. I'll just have to try to do better, next time.
(Because, sadly, there's always a next time.)
