Men: No Means No — Even if It Isn’t Sex-Related
Let’s get this straight right away: I’m not a man-hater. In fact, I LURV men, have ever since I was old enough to understand the differences between the sexes. But fellas, sometimes I just don’t know if I can take y’all anymore.
I wish I could tell you the following story will be short and sweet. But it’s kinda long and, knowing me, probably ranty. But stick along for the ride — I think some of you will understand my pain.
I meet a guy, we’ll call him “Junior,” a couple of weeks ago, who I find out is a personal trainer. He’s not big in stature, but built. Built. I’ve been wanting to get back into a workout routine but doing nothing on my own, so I ask him if he’ll train me. Our first session was Monday.
He takes me to his gym and I pay for a month-long membership. We start with the first exercise, and I realize — from the first rep — that Junior and I are not even close to being on the same page about my workout plan. I don’t always listen to my intuition, but I just know.
The more we talk, as we move from machine to machine, just confirms what I’m thinking. At this point, I could think about all the mistakes I’ve made with this plan up until this point — not asking Junior more questions ahead of time, not going into more depth about what I want, paying for an entire month at the gym instead buying a day pass — but it isn’t important. I’m willing to cut my losses, pay the man for the one session, and move onto Plan B, whatever that is. But he tells me we’ll settle up tomorrow.
When I run into him on Tuesday, I pay him (not even taking the “friend discount” he wants to give me) and tell him that I just don’t think I’m ready for his advanced program, and I’m just going to come up with one of my own. Junior tells me he can come up with an easier program, that he’ll do this, that he’ll do that, but I’m done and I stand my ground. In a five-minute conversation, I say “no” at least eight times. And I know the phrase, “No, decided to do this on my own,” comes out of my mouth on three separate occasions.
People, this is really big for me. I’m the girl who used to, by all means necessary, avoid even mild confrontation. But I stood my ground (even though my roommate, man that he is, thinks I should give him a second chance).
So now it’s Wednesday, my next day to go to the gym, I stay late at work, hoping that by the time I workout, Junior will be gone. (See, there’s that avoidance skill in play: no see, no awkwardness.) No. Such. Luck. But I’ve already broken up with him, so nothing to worry about, right?
I come out of the dressing room and he’s right there in my face, talking about how we can work out together — you know, just trade off on machines — while he shows me a few more exercises. Now, I’m not sure how to say no without throwing a fit in front of a gym full of strangers. So, sigh, fine. Outside of the gym, I’ll reiterate that I’ve decided to work out on my own, and that will be that.
At the end of the workout, as I’m getting ready to leave, Junior says that now we can just be workout buddies and I don’t have to pay him anything at all.
Great. Just great.
So now I’m the “rich” American (’cause, don’t ya know, we all are) asshole who’s going to use this guy for all his fitness knowledge and not pay him a damn cent, Jamaican or otherwise. I’m trying to tell him it’s not about the money (and it really isn’t), but he just keeps talking about how we’ll do this together. Uh-uh, ain’t gonna happen.
I leave the gym and get in my car to head home. At this point, I’m pissed. Pissed at Junior for putting me in this position after I’ve told him what I want, pissed at myself for not throwing that fit in the gym after all.
I’m about to drive away, and an old guy — probably homeless, definitely old and poor — stops me to tell me my headlight covers are cloudy. “Yeah, I know. You’re not the first to tell me that,” I say.
He says he can shine them up for me. I say no, thanks. He says it’ll only take 10 minutes. I say I’ve got places to be. Then he comes up with, “Come on, help a guy get a meal tonight.”
Well, fuck.
So now I’m going to be responsible for this guy having either a full or empty belly tonight?!? I tell him to go ahead, as I play games on my phone. Now I’m pissed at Junior, myself and this old guy who has made himself my responsibility. I’m pissed at the world. (But my headlight covers do look sooo much better.)
But back to Junior. What do you think I did about him? For that matter, what would you do?
I went home, downloaded a $4 kettlebell tabata workout app I can use at home, that my coworker swears by, and I probably won’t set foot in that gym again. That one-month membership fee is down the drain, but I’m good with that.
I know some people — men and women — will say at this point that I just needed to “man-up” and be honest with Junior. But I don’t agree. I already did that, and I shouldn’t have to do it even one more time. He just didn’t know how to take “no” (or eight of them) for an answer.
I would like to say (and I think many men would say) that this is an isolated or unusual incident. But it isn’t. Yes, men in Jamaica are definitely more . . . persistent that most men I’ve known in the States. But this is far from the first time I’ve dealt with this, here or back home. And, unfortunately, I’m sure it won’t be the last. I’ve commented on it here on Medium before.
And not every man is like this all the time. But many men — dare I say most? — are like this at least some of the time. Friends, boyfriends, roommates (and you know who you are) do it in little ways all the time. And even once is too many times for me.
We talk a lot about “no meaning no” when talking about dating or sexual situations. For obvious reasons, that’s a good, good, good thing. But, guys, you need to remember that that phrase holds true in any situation.
(Hang in there — we’re almost done, I swear.)
Gentlemen, you may think you know somebody close to you — girlfriend, wife, friend, coworker, sister — who says no, but really just wants you to talk them in to things. If you really do know someone like that, she is bat-shit crazy, and you need to run. Run fast, run far, and never look back.
But for the rest of us, that’s just not the case. By poke-poke-poking at us about something, you’re more likely to push us away than get a yes. And if we do say yes, you haven’t won. You’ve just worn us down. You’ve made us tired and sad, and taken a little piece of our self-respect away. And, no matter what game you’re playing, that’s not a true win.
When I was a teenager and my mother and I would get in a big fight, she would sometimes say, “You know, I’ll always love you, but right now I don’t really like you.” It was one of the few things she would say that would truly hurt me, and even make me feel shame.
Well, men, when you verbally browbeat us to get the “yes” that we don’t we don’t want to give up, all I have to say to you is, “Well, I guess I still love you, but sometimes I just really don’t like you.”
