“Your lady is hot. Good job.”
My eyes narrowed into slits. Hot? Good job? Your lady?!
I’d humored the old man for the past twenty minutes, mumbling answers to his questions while Matt and I attempted to enjoy our meal. I tried not to laugh when he explained to me how Google worked. He just wanted someone to talk to. I could understand that. Respect your elders. Mind your manners. My mother would be so proud.
But then he called me hot.
Matt’s eyes slid over to meet mine. He could see my rage rising to the surface but I pushed it down, put on my best smile, and returned to my food. This old man would steal no more of my time.
I ate the remainder of my food in silence while Matt continued the conversation. The bartender stood off to the side, sensing the change in atmosphere, and waited to see the show. He wouldn’t get one though. My parents taught me better, right?
I told myself not to worry about it; that the old man meant it as a compliment and it just came out wrong. I told myself he’d leave soon and I’d probably never see him again.
My wish came true a few minutes later. He paid his tab and stood to leave. A hand suddenly gripped my shoulder and I turned to find him smiling down at me. His eyes flickered to my wrist.
“What’s that?” he asked, reaching for my hand. I instinctively pulled it away but held it out for him to see.
“It says Namaste,” I whispered as I tried to maneuver my shoulder out from his grasp.
“Well, that was a mistake,” he said, shaking his head. I glanced over at the now-chuckling bartender who had a sleeve of tattoos running up his right arm. I turned back to the old man and crossed my arms across my chest; the universal sign for back the hell off.
“I don’t think so,” I said, staring him down. “To each his own, right?”
Not taking the hint, the old man dug in. “So what do you do?” he asked.
I honestly couldn’t tell if he was just avoiding going home or flirting with me.
“I’m a paralegal,” I said, my tone empty of interest in the conversation. I told him the name of my firm and his hand squeezed my shoulder tight.
“Aw man, you work for those scumbags?” he bellowed, doubling over and slapping his knee as if I’d just told the funniest joke in the world.
My southern manners ceased in an instant. I removed his hand from my shoulder and it dropped to his side unnoticed. I bit my tongue as my mother’s words echoed through my mind.
Always respect your elders.
Always mind your manners.
I know there should be exceptions to the rule. There are times when manners should be tossed aside to protect yourself and your pride.
But I still couldn’t do it to him. I didn’t know his story. So I turned back to the bartender, pointed to my empty glass, and dismissed the old man who still laughed behind me.
“Another please.”
Arden Ruth 
Negative has always been my default setting. People like that man are the reason I try so hard to do better. I dread the though of ending up like one of those old people who don’t even realize how insulting they are being and then wonder why nobody wants to be around them.
Well if you’re tgat aware of it, then i doubt it will happen 🙂 This guy was completely oblivious to what he was saying.
I think he might have been the same guy who asked me if I was a meth addict because I’m a single mom… Sheesh! Sorry he was such a jerk.
No way! What is wrong with people?
I have no clue…
I am not sure I could have stopped myself from saying something. Age is no excuse for that behavior. You showed great restraint!
It was hard but I’m glad I didn’t say anything in the end. He’ll remain grumpy and insulting no matter what, I’m sure!
great writing! The tension came through beautifully. I was digging my nails into my palms for you! I would have been done with being nice long before listening to all of that…
Thank you! It was tough 🙂 Luckily, i havent run into him since.
You’re a stronger person than I am! The more I read, the more tightly wound I got, and the more I seethed. I’m quite sure that in your position I would have told him off. But you’re right. It wouldn’t have made a difference; he’d still be the same person tomorrow. You told the story beautifully 🙂
Thanks Tienne! It was very hard to keep my mouth shut but I’m glad I did!
Wait. What, Courtenay? that’s effed up. More effed up than congratulating a man for scoring a hot woman. As if it’s entirely his doing. Ugh.
I feel like you wrote a post on this or am I making that up Courtenay?
For the record, I think that guy congratulating your boyfriend is very effed up. I get that kind of thing when I go out with my friends that are girls. People assume I’m their husband/boyfriend and they say crap like that to me. And then my boyfriend walks up and I give him a big ole kiss.
Hah! Love it 🙂 Although I hate you have to do that to prove a point. It just sucks. It’s not the first time; won’t be the last. Le sigh…
I probably would have acted the same way, but not out of politeness–I’m just not good at coming up with scathing replies. 😉
Hah! That’s me too actually. 🙂
Wow, good for you for holding back! You told the story well!
Thanks Melanie! It was tough, I’m not gonna lie 🙂 It’s harder as I get older. I feel as I age, I should be allowed to be rude if I want. Haha!