May 2011 // Stephen Christian
All of us men are guilty of it. We are not sure when it started, but it is almost ingrained into our heads. A beautiful, or even menially attractive, woman walks by and we turn our heads to see how tight her clothes are. It’s not classy by any means, and we know it, but it feels as if we can’t help it. Perhaps it’s innate or rather, and most likely, we have just done it for so long that it is second nature.
I have always tried to catch myself. Not just because I think that in a way it’s degrading, but also because now I know how it feels to be on the receiving end. No not technically me, but vicariously through my wife. I am not going to lie, and I am not trying to write this so my wife will say ‘how sweet,” but my wife is hot. I mean hot. She has modeled in magazines and advertisements around the world while still managing to cook the best steak and make our house feel like a home.
The other day, we were at a home improvement store purchasing recessed lighting to put in our guest room. We were just about to check out when my wife decided to look at the flowers, and in good husbandry fashion I followed. I noticed a lean man loading wood into his small, beat up, red truck. He glanced up at the two of us and noticed one of us was more attractive than the other. Now, I am accustomed to dudes checking out my wife. It sucks but I am used to it, though this guy didn’t seem to want to stop. He followed her with his eyes everywhere she went. Down the aisles, to the register, back down another aisle, back to the cart, following her and probably humming the creepy song by The Police ‘Every Breath You Take’ under his breath while he stalked her from a distance.
I couldn’t help but feel almost barbaric at this point. I stared back at him and puffed out my chest, wishing I had pectoral muscles big enough that I could beat on them ape like and they wouldn’t bruise. I would have clubbed her and dragged her back to my cave if I knew that that would have deterred him from honing in. Better yet I should have just clubbed him and left him there. Even with me staring back at him, and at moments me standing between her and this guy, who perhaps was 20 years her senior, he wouldn’t stop.
Now to know me is to realize that I am not a fighter, but at this point I was getting furious. Finally, much to my wife’s surprise, I yelled ‘Hey! Stop staring at my wife!’ and gave him the cold clinched fist stare. She was mortified. The workers in the area stopped what they were doing and froze, but the guy turned around and looked behind him, as if I was talking to someone else and carried out his business.
The scene was over. The guy got into his truck and drove away. I wish I could say that it was because he was overcome by fear by my bulging biceps, but really it was because his task of loading his truck was done. I don’t even think he knew what he was doing. Honestly, he really thought I might have been talking to someone else.
Looking back, I wonder what the guy hoped to accomplish by fixating on my wife. I want the statistics of how many couples got together because the dude yelled an obscene phrase out the window of a car or from a construction site at a helpless female bystander. I want the next massive chick flick to start with the male lead staring a girl down so hard that she got uncomfortable to the point that they fell in love. Memo to men, the woman you want won’t fall in love with you because you can’t take your eyes off the back of her jeans.
As angry as the situation made me, I wondered if I have been guilty of the same thing, not even realizing my actions or their repercussions. Have I aimlessly let my mind wonder in different directions while letting my eyes stray down their own path? After just such an incident I am going to be conscious of my own actions and not just because of what happened to me but because it’s just not man-like. Its cave-like, my actions included.
Man up.