Sanctimoniously Yours

I think I’ve been most unequivocal about my feelings towards men of a certain kind. I mean the ones who cannot keep their eyes or hands to themselves, and who are so blatantly lecherous that you are shocked by the degree of hatred you never thought yourself capable of. I’ve had thoughts of such pure evil- the kind that Hannibal Lecter would have been proud of. Thoughts involving dismembering of certain male body parts and such. What can I say? They bring it upon themselves!

Some of them are quite obvious. You can see them approaching from a mile away. They just have these signals that go off, and you’d have to be blind not to see them. Experience has taught me that it’s just better to be a b**** than give them the benefit of the doubt. Like the man in the baking aisle in the supermarket. I was engrossed in calculating how many packets of nuts I’d need for a cake when I sensed rather than saw this nondescript person inching towards me. He hung around for a few minutes, fingering random items on a shelf before he suddenly turned to ask me if a certain brand was good! I was in no mood to be toyed with, and I launched straight into a loud tirade about how men like him bother women like me, and that I knew exactly what he was up to and how I was going to call security right now. He made a cunning yet pathetic attempt to defend himself by pointing out a child that was purportedly his, and saying he was a father (as if that ever stopped them), and that he would never do something like that blah blah blah. Suffice to say I caught him out and he had to do everything possible to save face in front of a dozen shoppers.

It also serves well to be wary of men even if they may seem well-dressed or totally respectable. And especially if they seem too nice or helpful. Let me cite example two. I was once unloading several bags of groceries in front of the elevator on the car parking level. A man who was waiting there moved forward to hold the door open for me, and then started helping with all my bags in spite of my protests. I smiled and thanked him, and then stood waiting for the elevator to arrive.

I wasn’t surprised when the first comment came, “Nice car. How much did you pay for it?”

My car is almost six years old and looks it. I wasn’t impressed. I told him politely enough that I couldn’t remember.

Unfazed, he asked again, “It’s a Jeep, yah?” He clearly thought I owed him for services rendered.

I turned to stare at him, this automobile aficionado, and said coldly, “No.”

No more smiles. I could feel that he sensed my animosity. Good. At least he’d shut up.

Suddenly the lift arrived and before I could bend down to gather up my bags, the man had leaped inside and shut the doors on me! Clearly strange behaviour for a knight in shining armour.

Oh well, I guess he got my message!