Monday, September 20, 2010

Essay: Old Pervs, Still Pervs

I promised to move my bits and pieces from the top of the blog postings, but I have no idea if this is any better. This was inspired by a writing prompt in my Creative Non-Fiction class. It was not until today that I realized that my life has some odd stories.

Essay: Old Pervs, Still Pervs

"You could never be a bridesmaid with that tattoo on your ankle," the man said to me, and it was a rather bold statement considering that I reached that age to have a lot of friends of approved marrying age, and to have one failed marriage under my belt already.
He had been talking to my supervisor, but shifted focus to me. I looked back at him from folding shirts on the counter, "Oh, my friends don't care really about how many tattoos I have. I have a lot more actually."
He leaned forward and dropped his tone, "Oh, you must be into pain," and down to a menacing whisper, "come with me."
My boss was right there, and this man appeared to be close to her nearly seventy years. I smiled and turned away, my manager laughed nervously, but the man had just smiled with a charm that struck me as odd. What could I actually say to this comment though? I enjoy telling the whole shocking, uncomfortable and sometimes painful truth because no one really expects that, but I had never had someone blatantly try to out me while at work. My mind began to wander as to where the comment came from. Was it simply a joke? Did he actually assume this? Did he know something? Had he seen me at the clubs? His tone seemed too curious as to what I was into. Was my silence a submission, or admission of some guilt?
I don't recall where the conversation went from here, my brain checked out. I was too struck by the idea that perverts do age. In my little fantasy land the odd people were young, lithe and beautiful all the time. I never tossed age in as a factor, but now I do. Oh, and when I saw Trigger the Human Pony do a show, my attention moved to the fact that he was wearing what I know as "Old Man Socks" pulled halfway up his calves, underpants and a leather harness. And once again I was a bit traumatized.

No comments:

Post a Comment