A story
So I went to the beach yesterday, around 4:30.
I always feel a little out of place at the public beach. For starters, most of the beach goers tend to be with family, or really young, gregarious, and tan, not to mention buff if they’re male, and attractive if they’re female. Which leads me to question what I’m doing there. Secondly, I hate the feeling that I’m automatically leering simply by virtue of showing up.
So I went late, and tried to find the more vacant, leer-free zone. And I’m reading and enjoying myself - pretending that I don’t need to be young, buff, gregarious, and accompanied by swarms of attractive young females to fit in. Seeing as how this is somewhat exhausting work, I decide to treat myself to a walk - still away from the crowds. Now, I hate the feeling of leering, but I’m also male. And, as a male, I can’t help but at least notice the females around me. Really, the instincts go back thousands of years. You might as well blame me for circling the toilet three times before sitting, or marking the four corners of my room. You guys do that, too, right? So I walk, and I notice, and I tell myself not to leer. That they’re probably all high schoolers, anyway, seeing as how it’s spring break. Still, I reason, most high schoolers tend to flock together for protection, and I couldn’t help but notice (again, blame genetics and science, not me) two who were away from the crowds.
Follow my thoughts, already in action:
"Well, MAYBE they’re older..." (They were too far away to note such details - just close enough to be curious about.)
"Still, even if they are, so what? It’s not as though I’m going to approach them. And what’s going to happen? Is one of them going to run up to me and ask me for the time? Which is clearly a ridiculous question that one would only ask if they were trying to strike up a conversation."
(At this point, I’ve mostly ignored and walked past them)
Literally, JUST as I’ve put the PERIOD at the end of my thought sentence (I felt I needed some caps. No?), I think I hear an "excuse me?"
Unsure, I turn around.
It’s one of the girls.
"Do you know what time it is?"
At this point, it’s hard to describe the humor and confusion as my brain rapidly tries to sort reality from fantasy, and ultimately gives up, leaving me with only a banal answer to respond with. And then I leave, with her probably wondering why my face was doing gymnastics from trying not to laugh.
---
I was sharing this story with a friend. As I’m getting to the end, he throws his hands up in the air and exclaims, "That’s not coincidence! That’s God! I don’t even believe in God, but that was him!"
"Then God wants me to be a pedophile. She looked like she was about sixteen."
"Our god is a very forgiving god."
---
Still, at least it’s nice to be noticed. I’ve got the forty to sixty range covered. Apparently I do pretty okay with the sixteen and under. Now if I can just hit that elusive middle area...
I always feel a little out of place at the public beach. For starters, most of the beach goers tend to be with family, or really young, gregarious, and tan, not to mention buff if they’re male, and attractive if they’re female. Which leads me to question what I’m doing there. Secondly, I hate the feeling that I’m automatically leering simply by virtue of showing up.
So I went late, and tried to find the more vacant, leer-free zone. And I’m reading and enjoying myself - pretending that I don’t need to be young, buff, gregarious, and accompanied by swarms of attractive young females to fit in. Seeing as how this is somewhat exhausting work, I decide to treat myself to a walk - still away from the crowds. Now, I hate the feeling of leering, but I’m also male. And, as a male, I can’t help but at least notice the females around me. Really, the instincts go back thousands of years. You might as well blame me for circling the toilet three times before sitting, or marking the four corners of my room. You guys do that, too, right? So I walk, and I notice, and I tell myself not to leer. That they’re probably all high schoolers, anyway, seeing as how it’s spring break. Still, I reason, most high schoolers tend to flock together for protection, and I couldn’t help but notice (again, blame genetics and science, not me) two who were away from the crowds.
Follow my thoughts, already in action:
"Well, MAYBE they’re older..." (They were too far away to note such details - just close enough to be curious about.)
"Still, even if they are, so what? It’s not as though I’m going to approach them. And what’s going to happen? Is one of them going to run up to me and ask me for the time? Which is clearly a ridiculous question that one would only ask if they were trying to strike up a conversation."
(At this point, I’ve mostly ignored and walked past them)
Literally, JUST as I’ve put the PERIOD at the end of my thought sentence (I felt I needed some caps. No?), I think I hear an "excuse me?"
Unsure, I turn around.
It’s one of the girls.
"Do you know what time it is?"
At this point, it’s hard to describe the humor and confusion as my brain rapidly tries to sort reality from fantasy, and ultimately gives up, leaving me with only a banal answer to respond with. And then I leave, with her probably wondering why my face was doing gymnastics from trying not to laugh.
---
I was sharing this story with a friend. As I’m getting to the end, he throws his hands up in the air and exclaims, "That’s not coincidence! That’s God! I don’t even believe in God, but that was him!"
"Then God wants me to be a pedophile. She looked like she was about sixteen."
"Our god is a very forgiving god."
---
Still, at least it’s nice to be noticed. I’ve got the forty to sixty range covered. Apparently I do pretty okay with the sixteen and under. Now if I can just hit that elusive middle area...