Friday, December 01, 2017


Older, unattractive men apparently think women want to see them naked. (Charlie Rose, Conyers, Matt Lauer, Harvey Weinstein, Louis CK). Some of these men mistakenly believe women will be driven into sexual frenzy by viewing their aged penises, droopy, half-buried in fat and dangling in mid-air.

The cover of this week's New Yorker says it all.

Some men think their sexual apparatus so gorgeous, it should be photographed and posted on Facebook, a la Mr. Weiner. Being irresistible to themselves, they are deluded that the rest of the world, at least the females, share their enthusiasm for their own sad members.

I've been flashed a few times as have all of my female friends. Once, a man who worked for me came into my office, shut the door and pulled off his shirt exposing his bare puffed-up chest. My mouth fell open in shock. He flexed his muscles and before I could say anything, he pulled the shirt back on. Granted it's not as bad as the classic pants drop, but it was a flash.

I know the man had problems with working for a woman...this was 35 years ago. I'd seen a book on his desk entitled something like "Working for a Bitch." He'd left it where I could see it. During this incident, once I collected myself, I said nothing, mostly because I was speechless. This was probably, by accident, the smartest thing I could have done, looking back. If I'd tried to have him fired (he was a minority) there would have been a mess. The incident would have been aired in public to no good end for me. In a predominantly male environment, I would have looked like an oversensitive sissy, a bitch, a trouble-maker.

Few women had management jobs in my industry in those days. The male HR people would likely have concluded that hiring a woman was, as they'd anticipated, trouble, spelled with a T. It never occurred to me before writing this that perhaps my denigration, via officialdom, might have been what my flasher wanted. Was he that smart and scheming? Perhaps it was sexual harassment, even though he was my subordinate. In the game, at that time, everyone would have been on his side. He would have denied the incident or said that I'd misinterpreted his action. You couldn't look to your few women colleagues for support. In those days, the lower the profile you could maintain, the better off you were.

I'm so thrilled the worm has turned and women may no longer have to endure this kind of childish, churlish stupidity.

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