That’s sick.
No. It’s a fact.
Fine. Leave your daughter at home when you go to the grocery store. I have done nothing to deserve your Stare of Doom. I have gotten glared at for saying, “Excuse me,” to a young child who was standing in the middle of the aisle blocking all traffic.
I refuse to buy into your thinking that I should be glad to be demonized, because you care so much about your daughter’s safety . I never wanted to be near her in the first place.
It’s because of people like you that I prefer to do my shopping at 3 AM.
It’s because of people like you I feel powerless around misbehaving children, for if I make it clear I’ve noticed the child at all it feels likely that I will be accused of staring at the child with an impure heart.
It’s because of people like you in the local Family Court I wasted something like fifteen hours of my life defending myself against a baseless accusation. Without ever being charged with a single thing. Just as a ploy to make my house mate look like a bad mother.
It’s because of people like you that I can no longer spend time with The Monster. Even though I’d spent more time with her, raising her, and caring for her, than her father. Because any time the custody battle heats up, the law guardian listens to accusations that I might be molesting the child again. Never mind that no charges have ever been filed, and no evidence has been presented to support the theory that I am a would-be child molester. In the eyes of the law guardian that’s the truth.
It’s because of people like you that I get harassed whenever I go to vote. My polling place is in an Elementary School. But because I’m a male, and walking past the playground, I must be a monster. I couldn’t possibly be there to use the public building for any other purpose.
I dread the day that people like you find the cemetery. I’ve already stopped using the library.
I’m not trying to deny the desirability of protecting your daughter. But I don’t see why doing that means you and all the people like you have to treat every man you might meet as a slavering fiend.
Is there no room for a middle ground, really?
Hmmm. Are you being hyperbolous, or is it really this severe of a problem for you?
I’m a big forty year old male and I am often out by myself, often in places with children and I’ve never faced the difficulties you claim.
I mean no offense, but is there some aspect of your appearance, demeanor of behavior that is especially unusual or threatening? Your experience strongly differs from mine in its extremity.
Whatever. I guess I just have a higher standard than you.
Keep guessing. You haven’t seen my daughter, so the only standard you could possibly have is one of total ignorance.
No one accused me of anything directly. School psychologists just have standard questionnaires that can trip warning signals to them. She always has bruises and she will freely admit that I “beat her” meaning that she either gets hurt when we play anything remotely rough or that she gets hurt when she tries to get me sitting still and she tumbles off of the couch and whimpers for a second like a kitten. I adjusted my behaviour a little because of this but I won’t stop playing with my daughters altogether because of this stupid mentality. Both of them like to play and they won’t ever get truly hurt. We are talking about a soft forehead konk on heavy carpet that leads to a two second stare. I am firmly against any system that hinders father- daughter interactions like this and I won’t play along at all all. I am an equal parent at the very least and won’t apologize to anyone at any time when it comes to them and the way that they are being treated.
For whatever reason in mixed social groups I don’t get a lot of the “You’re a potential molester” vibe for some reason. I like young kids well enough in small doses, but I really don’t “engage” or play with them like some people do. It’s mostly “Yes that’s fascinating Tiffany, now go see your mommy”. I think I hear her calling you! Go, go go!" Moms seem to take this diffidence as a cue that I am just the person to look after their little darlin’ for a few minutes (or longer… much longer :rolleyes: ) while they busy themselves elsewhere.
Naturally. You’re not interested, so you’re not a threat. Lovely little Catch-22, isn’t it?
I’m not gay, but I think that would do it for me too!
Well, the run ins with officialdom all stem from having had the bad luck to share a house with a woman who ended up involved in a thoroughly ugly custody battle. There was no overt physical abuse, but that’s about the only that was missing. That accounts for the legal and family court complications.
And, too, there’s the assumption a lot of people make that if someone is in their thirties, or older, and never married, there must be something wrong with them. And apparently, chronic depression isn’t good enough. I’ve never been confronted by the Family Court people about my admittedly poor temper. In part because I’ve never let it loose on, or near The Monster. But it’s something that I’d see as a legitimate concern. My temper scares me, sometimes.
But it’s the would-be molester thing that the law guardian cares about.
As for the rest? I really have no bloody clue. I’m 5’9", and overweight. (At this point morbidly so) I have problems with five o’clock shadow - it shows up around noon, if I shave. At the moment I’ve stopped shaving and am seeing how the beard comes in these days. If you’ve seen the 1955 version of Guys and Dolls, and remember Nicely Nicely - that’s me when I’m clean-shaven.
I seem to scare people. I’ve startled people while walking on the sidewalks, without ever trying to hide my presence. I’ve had people walk across the street so they don’t have to pass me. I’ve walked some bad areas of NYC and Jersey City in the middle of the night and had that happen. (Not the worst areas of either, but not the choicest, either.)
These things don’t happen every time I go out. But often enough that it’s bloody annoying.
Oddly enough, if I’m singing to myself while I’m out, I’m suddenly a harmless lunatic.
Back when I could go out with The Monster people would take their cues from her. She and I would be playing and everything is fine. (Imaginary castles are fun to build.) But if I’m alone it’s another story.
I just have to ask, is this a whoosh?
I have 20 freaken years as an Investigator and I can tell you your 6th sense is bullshit. Not only because I know what I can tell, and I can’t tell that, but I also know the chances of two random men both being Pedophiles- about 0. Now, of course if your daughter is very well developed for 8, then they might have just been guys ogling- which is harmless. Sure, I wouldn’t blame you for giving the guys “the look” but the chance of two random men both being Pedophiles is vanishingly small. And, not only that- both Pedophiles interested in little girls. :dubious:
I used to be a Scout Leader- but it was hinted to me that as a Single man the 'rents were uncomfortable with me- so I am not a Scout Leader anymore. 
I dunno if this might have been Homophobia or assuming I was a child molsester or likely both. As* of course* all gay men (I am not gay) are pedophiles. :rolleyes: :rolleyes:
One day outside the Federal building here in San Jose a single-mom-looking mom was sitting looking at her phone, ear buds in. Her little girl was playing on the Light Rail tracks. Here came the train, the driver was ringing his bell like crazy I could see the fear in his eyes as he knew there was no way he could stop the train in time. I grabbed the little girl (4? 5?) by her arm and put her in front of Mom. Mom then glared at me, and ran over to the Federal Security dude, and was yelling at him, in anger, and pointing at me. I just got out of there.
In other words, she wanted him to arrest me for touching her little girl, it would have been better for her child to be smashed into paste rather than have a “strange man” touch her. :eek: :mad: :rolleyes:
I’m a non-violent person, but it would have taken all my willpower to refrain from slapping the living shit out of her. I would have gladly spent the night in jail on an assault charge just to have the opportunity to explain what happened to a judge and see if that stupid cow could, at the very least, be forced to take some parenting classes.
Y’know, Scylla’s post reminds me a lot of arguments that conservatives (of which I believe he’s politically inclined) make in regards to terrorism, and the various privacy-invading laws and powers being invoked in the name of stopping it.
I think there are some strong parallels to be made here.
I actually do OK as far as parents. What gets me, though, is I do like kids but I’m about 6’1, 275 pounds and due to my size (I hope :()I’ve been known to scare children shitless just by looking at them.
Finally got up to see my friend’s daughter who was one and a half. I walk in the door and I see the smile just drain from her face. She then buries her face in her mom’s leg and says, “SCARED!”
Never fear though, there was much piggybacking to be had by the end of the trip. 
I live in a certain fear of this situation - I believe that if I had to react in an instant to grab a child from the path of a speeding car, my learnt behaviour of avoiding all contact with other peoples’ kids might result in me not acting at all. Similarly, I would be very hesitant to approach a crying, lost child, especially as I would be worried about being seen as the source of their tears, as opposed to a caring adult trying to help.
A long-time male friend of mine had a daughter about 3 years ago, and at one point told me that he ‘trusted me’ with her. Oddly, I found this quite offensive, and told him so. It suggests that his default position, even among friends, is that of distrust when it comes to children. I know he would not have felt the need to tell his parent friends - they would have been trusted by virtue of having kids. And as everyone knows, parents never abuse kids… :rolleyes:
Also - Scylla, you come across as part of the problem rather than the solution.
Bingo.
And what also pisses me off is that talk show hosts laugh and giggle about a female teacher who sleeps with 12 year old boys (wink, wink, ain’t that cool!?!) but if a 12 year old Gay boy has sex with a male teacher, that is worthy of capital punishment. Apparently 12 year olds boys are only “getting lucky” if they are having heterosexual sex with a female teacher.
No, I am by no means a pedophile, and I think both hetero and Gay sex with kids are equally perverse, but am I the only one who has noticed a slight variation in the public perception of the morality of this?
Are you kidding? A seven year old predator? Seven year olds play doctors and nurses and ‘you show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ stuff. It’s about curiosity and natural inquisitiveness, not aberrant sexual practices. Geezus friggin’ christ. :rolleyes:
Scylla, you’re the one who is ‘off’. Your preoccupation with your daughter’s budding sexuality is the problem, not a little boy who was doing what little boys have been doing since time began…checking out little girls who are different to them. Oh, and vice versa of course.
If what you have written here is a true account of what happened, I suggest you go get some serious help. Your attitude is quite worrying. VERY worrying.
Nope.
FTM, last week there was a little fluff piece that got picked up for distribution by Gannett papers. And I couldn’t help thinking for all the author started throwing out some sea anchors to back off from her initial position of confused solely by the idea of women having sex with minors she really finds nothing surprising about the idea of men who do that. Since that’s what men do.
But when it involves a woman: “Somebody please explain to me how a woman goes from welcoming her child’s friend for a get-together to having sex with him in the bathroom.”
Now, I get that part of the point for her piece was to complain about the public perception of many adolescents in mind who can’t make a distinction between their school day fantasies and the reality of sexual abuse. But it still bothers me to read the piece with the sense that the only adult/teen sexual liason she can’t grok are those involving women.