Get It Girl! Single Gal-ness in the City: Where My Lady Creeps?
As soon as that magic whistle freed me from my last relationship (Editor’s note: she was dumped), I started looking at men differently. I began judging them by how physically attractive I found them. While waiting for a train, I’d look across to the crowded platform on the other side of the station, and automatically go through each man, “Yes, no, no, oh yeah, yes, sure, NOPE, probably if I were drunk, no, yes, wow, didn’t even know I’d be into that,” etc. It was like a power I had over them they didn’t even know about. I was objectifying other human beings right and left, and I was loving it. Was I turning into a dude?
I asked myself this question because this is how our society says all men think. I choose to believe that’s not true because I enjoy being able to sleep at night. I think it’s common on a subliminal, unconscious level for people to evaluate the attractiveness of others they encounter in passing, but I don’t think it’s what most men concentrate on. A man who focuses on this aspect of his psyche and either doesn’t have the social skills or shame to mask this fact is a creep.
But where are the lady creeps? The leering, insinuating, cat-calling women-where are they? Could this be the last break through for feminism? Could I be a pioneering lady creep? Could I afford not to be?
In hindsight, my creep potential has always been there. I even used to play something called “The Creepy Game” with my ex. The premise was quite simple-I would do and say things to try to creep him out. You only win once the other person playing doesn’t feel like it’s fun anymore. I was the all-star, undisputed champion of the world at the creepy game. My most effective strategy was to take on the persona of a stereotypically creepy guy. Example:
ME: Hey there, you look really good. Are you here by yourself?
HIM: I really don’t like it when you do this.
ME: Just relax. I could massage you with my hands.
HIM: Please, stop.
HOW DID THAT AMAZING LOVE STORY EVER COME TO AN END? I’m also partial to shows and films about serial killers and true crime, and I enjoy surgery videos. I think my creep credentials are pretty solid.
The first guy I started seeing in any kind of dating capacity really upped my suspicions that I’m a creep. He was a very nice guy, but he was much younger than me. At the time I was 32, and he was 23, but looked like he was about 19. He got carded EVERYWHERE we went. Bartenders would feel obligated to card me as well. I’d always smirk as I handed over my license, like, “That’s right, almost a decade younger. Who’s a saucy minx?” The look I received in return was never indicative of approval, much less admiration.
To take this to the next level, I’m going to have to start making strangers uncomfortable. I’m practicing an unwavering stare in the mirror and on my cats (that sentence in and of itself should be all the proof you need). I’m working on things to say to men I meet in every day situations. Here are some of things I’ve come up with so far.
“Don’t I know you from one of the pornos?”
“This coffee’s hot right? Will it still be hot in my mouth?”
“You smell like a horse in a good way.”
“I really like your teeth.”
“You should smile like a good boy.”
“After you take your hat off, can I smell it?”
“You look strong enough to lift me out of the bath.”
“I’ve been watching you all night and most of the past week.”
“I’m really into fires.”
“Sure, I’d betray the rest of humanity if aliens came.”
“It’s not watching someone sleep if you’re also filming it.”
“I don’t get caught up in material things like money or skin.”
“There’s cough syrup in my car if you want some.”
“My last boyfriend was a ghost, but you’re just as handsome.”
“When I call out, ‘Captain Planet, he’s our hero,’ that means I came.”
Good start, right? Try not to get cut by any shards once I bust this glass ceiling.
