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Tuesday, 27 March 2007 14:03 |
| The Advice Goddess
Amy Alkon |
I turned 38 last week, and through some introspection, realized Iím unfulfilled. I thought a girlsí night out might help. The last thing I wanted was attention from men. Of course, at the bar, I ended up getting hit on by a 50-something overweight man. Shortly after introducing himself, he told me I have a lovely figure and began guessing my height, weight, and measurements (including bra size!). Then he asked me my age! Outraged, I said my stats were none of his concern, and that if heís in the habit of treating women like sexual objects he should take his chauvinistic attitude elsewhere. Then I slapped his face, and told him it was on behalf of all the women whoíve had to endure his offensive pickup lines. He walked sheepishly back to his laughing buddies. My friends gave me ìyou go, girlî high fives, but said I seemed a little on edge lately. If theyíre right, do you know some good techniques to find inner peace?
ó Venting
Common
sense is getting rarer every day. My neighborhood grocery store just
started tagging cheese with the sticker ìCONTAINS: MILK.î A Welsh
regulatory agency said Smoked Welsh Dragon Sausages should be renamed
so itís clear theyíre made of pork ó not dragon. Surely your local
pickup joint will soon post advisories on the door, like ìContains
drunksî and ìTo avoid attention from men, hold girlsí night out in a
convent, not a bar.î
Iíll hazard a
guess as to what really went down last week. A man approached you at
the bar. Although you consider men who judge women by their looks
chauvinistic pigs, you noted that he was not a 30-something blond
Adonis but a 50-something fat man. He noted that you noted this ó
probably because you shot him the high school mean girl death ray for
daring to even dream of hitting on you. Okay, fine. If he couldnít get
you, heíd at least get a rise out of you. You didnít disappoint.
Naturally, you
assumed he was a foot soldier in the vast conspiracy to keep women down
ó not just some obnoxious drunk. Asking apparently uptight girls in
bars their age and bra size ó isnít that what obnoxious drunks do? Come
on, you know that, but acknowledging it isnít half as satisfying as
flapping your wings and squawking about being ìobjectifiedî (as if
people in bars are on the prowl for inner beauty and spiritual depth).
Finally, to show him how the civilized half lives, you cracked him one.
Just a thought, but if a guy did that to you, would you be slinking
sheepishly back to the girls ó or feverishly dialing 911 to have him
incarcerated for life?
As for what you
couldíve done in response, youíre a girl who was supposedly loath to
engage. Didnít ignoring him occur to you? Or, if you wanted to give
back in kind, since it was a fat guy going troll on you, when he asked
ìWhatís your bra size?î you couldíve looked down at his chest and said,
ìI dunno, whatís yours?î You only became a victim when you started
acting like a victim. Youíll probably continue to feel like one until
you figure out whatís missing from your life, and take steps to change
ó instead of taking out the feeling somethingís missing on the nearest
aspiring toxic bachelor. As for how to find inner peace, Krishnamurtiís
ìFreedom From The Knownî has some pretty good guidelines. As for where;
thereís no paved path that I know of, but for best results, try
standing by a babbling brook instead of a beer tap.
ï
Got a problem?
Write Amy Alkon, 171 Pier Ave, No. 280, Santa Monica, CA 90405, or
e-mail
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www.advicegoddess.com).
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