What they really mean is “…I didn’t want to anger some 200 lb psychopath”. Some guy does that, it’s best to call a cop or a friendly bouncer.
Ok…there were a couple more. There was the lady who was married who hit on me when I was at the Student Center gig; her husband was out of town or something and she’d had too much to drink. She said something about visiting me one day. I couldn’t make a scene without being disciplined/fired so I said sure & gave her a bogus phone number.
Not two nights later, I’m coming home from class (I lived on an entirely different campus of about 50 dorms; there were a dozen on the campus she saw me at too) and there’s Stalker Lady waiting for me outside my apartment, drunk, and wanting to come in to ‘use the bathroom’. Foolishly, I let her in and she was then all over me. Thank God all my roommates were home, as they helped me seperate her from me gently and politely ask her what she wanted. Thats when she goes into this song-and-dance about wanting to give birth, going to fertility clinics, and after years of trying her husband cut her off from sperm donations. She wanted me to impregnate her!!!
I told her I was flattered, but no, I opened the door, and the roommates and I did the 5-man offensive line to move her out the apartment door and onto the sidewalk. Onced that door closed, we all just looked at each other for a moment and burst out laughing for easily 20 minutes.
There was the girl I’d never met before at the out-door cafe one night in Cartegena who walked up to my table. I was talking to another girl in my tour group at the time and we were sharing a drink and enjoying the cool night breeze. The lady who walked up had a tube top with her thumbs under her arms. To get my attention, she dropped her top & wiggled the girls free as you please in the warm night breeze. I found out then that some 800-pound gorillas in the room are rather hard to ignore. We did our best anyway, and eventually the can-can girl went away, but the tour group girl was Very put-out about it and never spoke to me again that trip. Somehow she thought that I’d made that happen.
(Aquaman gets squids & whales; I somehow send out telepathic signals summoning breast-flashing women to out-door cafes…? :rolleyes: )
I was waiting for a prescription at the drug store when a very old man (at least mid-80s) literally shuffled down the aisle and asked very loudly where the Metamucil was. The pharmacist led him to the appropriate section, and he picked up the extra jumbo jar of Metamucil. I was paying for my prescription when he got to the counter, with nothing but the super-size Metamucil. He gently picked up my hand, and said “What, no ring? A beautiful girl like you, and you’re not married?” I was like “Um, nope! Maybe someday!” and he was like “Gosh, I’d marry you!” Then, the very attractive young pharmacist says to him “Oh, don’t you worry - somebody’ll snap her up!”
So, sure, maybe I got hit on by an 85 year old man buying nothing but lots and lots of fiber, but at least he got the hot pharmacist to hit on me, too! 
I was in Kathmandu, Nepal. I had arrived alone and was looking for a trekking partner to hike with to the Mt. Everest area. I met a girl who had a friend who was also looking for someone to go on the Everest trek. She seemed nice enough and the next day we took the bus to the end of the road and started hiking. That night we set the tent up and got in. She immediately starts coming on to me saying that she didn’t know how she was going to be able to stand not having sex for the six weeks she was going to be away from her boyfriend for. Things got even worse, but I’ll spare you the details. By the way she was quite unattractive to say the least. Finally I said that we had WEEKS of hiking ahead of us and that I was going to sleep.
She NEVER spoke to me again! We trekked together for over 3 weeks. Fortunately we had a Sherpa with us that I could talk to and we did run into another hiker after about 2 weeks, but that girl never spoke another word to me. The first few days I tried to be nice and start a conversation, but she would just turn away.
I don’t know what she was looking for, but “It ain’t me babe. No, no, no it ain’t me babe. It ain’t me you’re looking for, babe”.
When I was a 18 or so, I had a summer job painting the interior of a restaurant. This was in a town with a solid gay reputation, and everyone who worked there, or around there, was gay, with the exception of we three high school and college students hired to paint - me, my brother, and some other guy. The guy wiring the place was a very powerfully built bald man almost as old as my father.
At the time, homosexuality was considered a choice. One afternoon the electrician and I were the only two people there. While we talked, he preceded to tell me that the reason he chose to be gay was that he was too big for women to handle. Supposedly, women refused to put a thing that big in them. He then took two strides towards me, put his hand on my stomach before I could move, and told me that he’d liked to show me and start something right now. I am, and was, about as gay as a funeral. All I remember thinking was, “Shit. Women are meant to pass babies, and you tell me you’re too big for them as a way to seduce me?!” He was too big to hit, so I just left and never went back.
I was at a Salvation Army store looking for a rubber snake for my Halloween costume (oracle of Delphi). This elderly black dude said, “I gotcher snake, right here!” You can imagine where. Huge grin on his face. I couldn’t believe it.
Yeah, I have ghetto booty, so I can identify with eleanorigby’s experiences with black guys. I had a guy at the gym who used to get on the machine next to me and hit on me. I told him I had a boyfriend and he said, “But he ain’t here, right?” When I made it clear we weren’t going to hook up, he said, “Oh, you fine? You think you’re all that? You’re too good for me?” All offended. I mean, seriously, does this method work for anyone?
When I worked as a door checker at a bar, there was this guy who would just stand there and talk to me all night. I was a captive audience and I didn’t want to be rude to a patron, but it got out of hand. He started coming in when the bar opened and no one else was there, obviously just to talk to me. I tried being subtle, being nice, and then it was just too much. Finally, I told him to stop coming to the bar just to see me, because it wasn’t going to happen. He said, in all seriousness, right in front of my boss and co-worker/housemate, “Oh come on! You know you want me!” I was so embarrassed, and so was he when I basically laughed in his face. Can’t tell you how bad I got teased for that afterwards, though.
Why would you? That’s where the depths of depravity are. Hey ho, we humbly share opinions.
Or just avoid the confrontation and get out of there without escalating it.
Mine are fairly mundane: the cop that stopped me and told me I looked like his wife, but: “She’s dead.” Um, okay? (Couldn’t call the cops on that one. 
)
There’s a situation at work that’s mildly stressful; a guy keeps saying things, and I keep deflecting and hoping he’ll move on. I think he will; I don’t want to overreact because I think he’s just joking, and if he moves on, then it’s no big deal.
When I in my early 20s and worked at the only grocery store in a very small town in Oregon, there was an 40 or 50 year old man who would follow me around the store. The creepiest part were the odd questions he asked like “Do you bruise easily?” and “You have beautiful eyebrows. Are they natural?” Creepy, creepy, creepy.
You know, that would be a much cooler superpower than Aquaman’s.
Everything is a much cooler superpower than Aquaman’s.
Well I have one too. For one glorious day I was a cabdriver (was between jobs, needed the
cash). Late at night I somehow ended up on the northside of our town, which is not a nice
place (guess I was tired). Got a call to pick up some guy-yes he was black. He kept making
insinuating comments about my sexuality, such as “You HAVE to be gay, man, I can tell!”
Eventually dropped him off, only to have him scurry away in the darkness. Frankly I was glad
to be rid of him after all that. And yes it was my only night behind the wheel of a cab too…
Hey, glad someone enjoyed it. My friends certainly thought it was hilarious.
Apparently, Sevastopol seriously thinks we should just stay in our houses, preferably in a little windowless room, stumbling over mounds of shoes and getting hit on the head by wire jangly coat hangers.
Boy, he sure put me in my place.
And you’ve never met a straight man who believes lesbians really want men but don’t know it, right? It’s only natural to assume every straight man is like that, right?
[quite=supervenusfreak]I have friends like that. Usually these are the same guys who make faces whenever female body parts are mentioned.
[/quote]
You’ve never met a straight man who makes faces when male sexuality comes up?
Thank you! Whenever a guy bitches and whines about how many inconsiderate men hit on him, I wonder if he’s only so shaken because he wants to say yes but needs to prove to himself that he’s a man by saying no.
When I was 18 or 19, I shared an apartment with my boyfriend “Justin” (although we had separate rooms). I was doing a course and I made friends with one of my classmates, a guy called Frank. He was in his early thirties, and being fairly naive I never suspected that Frank would take a romantic interest in me, thinking the age difference was too great. He was a divorced single dad raising a 5 or 6 year old daughter, looked older than his age and was in no way my type so it had simply never occurred to me that Frank might not feel the same way.
One weekend after yet another argument, my boyfriend went to stay with his parents and I stayed in the apartment. My younger brother Rod came over to visit and brought his friend Matt with him. Frank also showed up and so we were all hanging out together. As the night wore on, things got out of control. My brother and his friend started going through Justin’s room and I wasn’t able to keep control of the situation, my repeated demands that they stay out of there and leave his things alone were increasingly ignored as the night wore on. Meanwhile, Frank had become embarrassingly intense and was making me feel nervous, which contributed to my struggle to stop my brother going through Justin’s stuff. Frank eventually told me what was on his mind - that he was attracted to me, and he asked if I felt the same. I was so embarrassed because I just didn’t, and I was trying to let him down tactfully while my little brother and his friend were running in and out laughing over the stuff they’d found in Justin’s room… an awkward moment in itself. I told Frank as gently as I could that I just wasn’t interested in him as anything more than a friend and I hoped he be ok with that. He looked a little downcast, but said ok. Then my brother and Matt came running in the room making a huge amount of noise because they’d just found some stuff under Justin’s bed - a gay porn mag, half a packet of condoms and an (empty) vibrator box. Suddenly Justin’s random and extreme homophobia began to take on a new significance in my mind… Anyway, while I’m trying to work out if my boyfriend is gay or if there’s another explanation for the treasures under his bed, and my brother and his friend are standing there loudly speculating on where the vibrator might be at that very moment, Frank seizes the moment, leans over to me and says “You know, I used to use a vibrator on my wife”.
Not the finest night of my life.
(When Justin got back I asked him about the magazine and he puffed up his chest and said “That was my own personal, private property and your brother had no right to go through it”, which was perfectly justified and yet didn’t address my concerns - especially regarding where the rest of the condoms had gone - so we broke up about 5 milliseconds later)
LOL. I see plenty of those types of guys too, every day. My partner Jayjay (hi hun!) and I are out and open, which means we have moments of PDAs. Most folks could care less, but every once in a while we will see a look of surprise, shock, and/or disgust from someone who saw us.
Does it bother me? Nah. I could care less what total strangers think about my sexuality.
What I was referring to in my previous post was the point that Malthus brought up about some gay men assuming that all men were gay, or that they would be if only they knew it. I know a few gay men who think like that. To me that idea is pretty much the equivalent of straight guys who assume that all lesbians need is to find “the right man”. Both are barking up the wrong tree.
When I was a teenager (back in the 1970’s), I was involved with a lot of quasi-political organisations like anti-uranium mining, people for nuclear disarmament, and other grass-roots-type groups that abounded during those halcyon times. I was young, naive and thought all of my fellow ‘dissidents’ had the same idealism as me.
I soon found out that many of the older radicals were just horny psychos. 
One particular fellow stands out in my memory. He claimed to be of Aboriginal descent (with all it’s attendent issues), and was vitally interested in modern group-therapy methods as a way of ridding oneself of false inhibitions so as to fully enjoy the ‘reality’ of being a sexual human being. I sort of fell for the rhetoric for a bit, until my ‘creep-o-meter’ went screaming off the dial one day.
It seems he was not one to be deterred, because two days later, he tried the same spiel out on me’ mum. :eek:
Ah, those were the days.
Why do you think you’re one of the gay men I had referred to?
In high school I asked out a girl and in the course of negotiations had to agree to take out her friend as well. I think the friend had a crush on me. I was not interested in her at all but wanted to be nice at least. I took her for lunch and miniature golf. We had a decent time. She was okay for conversation, though we didn’t have very compatible personalities. She was definitely not attractive to me and didn’t get any more attractive over the course of the afternoon. Even though I put out “not interested” signals she was pushy physically, trying to hold my hand when I was maintaining friend distance, or putting her arm around my waist if I wasn’t careful enough to back up or put something between us when she got too close.
When I dropped her off, her parents and brother were not home, which is something I suspect she knew would be the case ahead of time. Her body language got more aggressive. She tried to maneuver me into her bedroom by showing me around the house and ending up in her room. I avoided going in, even though she obviously wanted me to and, because things were getting even worse than I thought they would from her earlier behavior, made up some excuse for needing to leave shortly. On the way out of the house, I had to turn down offers of something to drink, watching a movie, hang out, etc. She tried to get me to commit to a second date, which I avoided as inoffensively as possible under the circumstances. Even in the driveway I had to tread carefully, and eventually had to put a car door between us to avoid her trying to hug or kiss me goodbye.
The ground rules someone mentioned earlier, of leaving an out and not being horribly persistent, are pretty good ones. She broke both of these. Often. That was the first and last time I ever went out on a pity date. Taking one for your wingman when you’re doing bars/clubs is one thing, but actually committing to spend time alone with someone you have no interest in in the first place is dumb.
Another particularly unpleasant experience I had getting hit on was recently related here in the last paragraph. He was constantly too close, too touchy, and groped me more than once. I’d been hit on by gay men before — being young, straight, and reasonably attractive at a mostly-gay party is like chumming for sharks — but this guy was beyond the pale and intimidating. Now, I’d have no problem with him, but at 19 he was more than I could handle.