Beware of Creepers

There is some­thing to be said for a man who strikes up a con­ver­sa­tion with, “I’m a gen­tle­man. I won’t put my penis near your face, unless you want me to.” I don’t believe “gen­tle­man” is an accu­rate word to describe this man’s char­ac­ter. Pig comes to mind.

It is men like this that make a trip to the bar amus­ing. He is not the only creeper I’ve encoun­tered in my evenings out. It is pre­cisely the rea­son I choose to ignore all man­ner of flir­ta­tion when alco­hol is involved.

For instance, rather than min­gle with a group of drunk frat boys on Hal­loween, I boldly sat alone. That is, until I was approached by a sweet, eccen­tric senior cit­i­zen with a great big beard. He asked to sit next to me and I thought, “Why not? A lit­tle kind­ness could make his night.”

We had a won­der­ful con­ver­sa­tion about every­thing from rais­ing chil­dren to wind tur­bines. He spoke to me about his grand­chil­dren and what it’s like to get old. I lis­tened closely to the wis­dom of a man who was forty years my senior until he said he had to get going. He gave me a hug good­bye and whis­pered in my ear, “Do you want to come home with me?” …Talk about ballsy. After I recov­ered from the shock, I quickly replied, “No, thank you.”

After another night filled with great music, I patiently waited for my cab on Supe­rior Street. Bar close in down­town Duluth is an inter­est­ing expe­ri­ence. It can end up being the stuff of leg­ends and it is not out of the ordi­nary for intox­i­cated indi­vid­u­als to attempt to make con­ver­sa­tion. A pass­ing man might say, “Word of advice…to myself. Don’t smoke pot from strangers. I don’t even know what I smoked.” I think that advice has merit.

An older gen­tle­man on a bicy­cle may pass by, then turn around and stop in front of you. That con­ver­sa­tion may go some­thing like this…

Old man: “Do you smoke pot?”

You: “No.”

Old man: “What?! Do you drink?”

You: “Yes.”

Old man: “Want some vodka?”

He might then pro­ceed to remove a Smart Water bot­tle from the holder on his bike and take a swig and try to pass it to you. Hope­fully you would decline the offer.

Old man: “It’s my birthday.”

You: “Happy birthday.”

Old man: “You are beau­ti­ful, but I’m going to pedal on so I don’t creep you out.”

Too late.

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