Someone exposed himself to me in a laundry room.
Whoomp, there it is. (That’s what she said.)
But all joking aside, it was most unpleasant and certainly not how I’d choose to start my morning.
The fact that it happened doesn’t shock me too, too much. Since living in New York things don’t usually shock me. In a city like New York you see a lot of things. I’ve gotten used to rude behavior, gruff inconsideration, and the harsh surprises the city can present. But this wasn’t in NYC. It was in a brightly lit, fully open, La Jolla apartment complex laundry room. And I might add, at 9:15AM! Not some questionable hour. Not in a dingy, dark basement. Not in a sketchy neighborhood. I would have never thought to proceed with a heightened level of caution.
He was already in the laundry room when I got there to take my clothes out of the dryer. He was folding his clothes, too. I gave him a friendly hello and opened my dryer. As I bent down to pull out my clothes, it was impossible not to notice the erection in his shorts. It looked like he’d pitched a tent in there. I felt uncomfortable to say the least, but chose to ignore it. I simply pretended that I didn’t notice.
Obviously I thought it was odd, and it did occur to me that he meant for me to see it, but I also had this concern that maybe he was embarrassed, that maybe he was mortified that he had an uncontrollable boner. Maybe he had a mental disability. Maybe I gave off a vibe by saying hello. I wondered if it was my fault. My instinct was to protect him as much, if not more, than me. I was scared, but I continued to fold my clothes, hoping beyond all hope that the situation would not escalate. All I wanted to do was run out of there, but I kept folding my clothes, pretending I didn’t notice. All the while concerning myself with his feelings.
I did think too that somehow this was the safest plan. I proceeded as usual, pairing socks, even though there was nothing usual about my predicament. I figured when I was finished with my chore, I would swiftly, but calmly exit, and nothing more would come of it.
But my hope was dashed when I inadvertently glanced in his direction again, this time to see his exposed penis sticking out of his shorts. An invitation, if you will. Or at least, I prayed that’s all it was, but I didn’t know for sure. I once again pretended I didn’t notice. But now I knew I must not stick around any longer to see what else might happen. I absolutely had to leave as quickly as possible.
However, leaving the laundry room would require passing by him to get to the door. Would he let me pass or would it be the fateful moment he decides to take further action?
I threw the rest of my clothes in my laundry basket, took a deep breath, and headed for the door. Luckily, I got out without further incident. Apparently, a suggestive invitation was indeed all he had in mind. He did not advance toward me or even talk to me. I got out of there unscathed…physically. But then, in an attempt to maintain the gross charade of pretending I never noticed a thing, I departed the laundry room calling out over my shoulder, “Have a nice day”.
Have a nice day???!!!! Whaaaaat?????!!!!!!!
And though my heart was still racing and I still felt a little scared. The more nagging, more irritating feeling was, “Seriously?! You’ve gotta be kidding me with this?!”
And the thing I felt most was MAD.
Mad that he thought he could get away with it. Mad that I was so vulnerable. Mad that I had been in that position. And really, really, mad at myself for not telling him to f_ck off.
Once I was safely back inside our apartment I felt this feminist rage building inside me. Why was it so important for me to protect him?! Why, when he was being so crude, did I feel the need to be polite and shield him from feeling uncomfortable? And why did I feel the urge to use pleasantries upon my departure even after I realized there was nothing pleasant about our encounter? I believe the answers speak to a larger issue…
I’m about to present an over simplification and generalization about girls and women. I know boys and men feel these things too, but since I’m a girl, and for me, I believe it is partially because I’m a girl that I felt these things in the laundry room, I will speak from a female perspective. Let’s start with the fact that this guy thought it was ok to approach a woman in this manner at all. As if just the presenting of his penis would be enough for me to desire him. It’s a penis after all, certainly I’d drop everything to tend to it. I mean, really? Exposing one’s genitals is not the equivalent of, “So, you come here often?”
Even with the feminist movement making strides, there is a prevailing misogyny that exists in our culture. Girls are taught, whether directly or indirectly through societal norms, to be nice, to be polite, to smile, and not ruffle feathers. A girl standing up for herself is unbecoming. Now, I don’t believe that in my heart. Not one bit. I know I can, and should, speak up when something is wrong. I admire any girl who does stand up for herself. But therein lies my point. I admire her. When a girl takes a stand we shout, “You go, girl!”, we exclaim “Girl Power!”, and treat it like a celebration. We see it as bold, strong, and special, when it should be normal, average, and expected.
And it’s not like I’d have had to use inflamed language to speak up to his guy. I’d love to think I’d have the moxie to verbally bitch slap this dude, but I couldn’t even muster up, “That is inappropriate, and for the record, illegal. You are making me uncomfortable and I’d like you to put your penis back in your pants.” That would have been, dare I say, lady-like without being a completely lame victim.
True, a big contributing factor to my behavior was my plan to act normal in an attempt to stay safe. But it is one thing to ignore him, not engage, and trust my instinct by keeping my distance. If I found myself in the same position again, I would handle it in a similar fashion. It was a calculated decision to not instigate, not use inflamed language. Choosing not to confront him was a way of staying low, like say, playing dead in front of a bear. But it is an entirely different thing to subject myself to possible danger in an attempt to be nice.
This has turned into a rant. I apologize. No. Wait. I don’t apologize. I wish I would never apologize again for something that’s not my fault. I have power I wish would never be threatened. I have innocence and trust in people that I wish would never be tested. I’m not going to add insult to injury by berating myself. I did what was best to keep myself safe. The most important thing is I got out of the laundry room without giving rise to anything else. No pun intended. But damn it, I’m mad. And I’m dismayed that my confidence was shaken by this creep.
So just to get it out of my system, I give you the retort my friend Stuart suggested: “Shouldn’t have put your penis through the dryer with your clothes. Looks like it shrank, asshole.”
Ladies, share with me stories of times you wish you’d have stood up for yourself.
Paige, don’t second guess your “fight or flight” instinct. Your survival mode kicked in and you made a choice. Seems to me that 99% of people would have chosen the flight option. To interact with this fool would not have benefited either you or the perv. He was looking for a reaction, or worse, and by leaving, you left him feeling like an idiot. Good for you. Don’t ever feel like the apologist for a pervert. I’m glad you were in flight mode, and you safely “escaped”.
Oh, yes! I agree, Kurt! I would handle the situation very similarly if it were to happen again. My anger came out of realizing my very first instinct was to protect HIS feelings. He did something very inappropriate and I immediately made excuses for him as if to give him the benefit of the doubt in order to be nice. Instead of fleeing much sooner, I allowed myself to stay in that laundry room so I wouldn’t hurt his feelings. I was being nice at the expense of my safety. It wasn’t until he pushed the limit to the point of literally indecency that I finally decided to protect myself and leave.
THAT’S what gets me me angry. The initial instinct to be nice even when possibly in danger.
Safety is #1. You did the best thing not to engage or provoke him in any way. Good call! The local police could be looking for this person, so making a police report would be appropriate.
Paige, you have a good heart and try to see the best in people. You try to help whenever possible, and even in that messed up situation, you thought you could perhaps “soften it”… Pun intended. Its awesome to have a heart of gold, its just unfortunate that their are sickos out there. You shouldn’t feel weak about your reaction, you should feel pretty good about your sweetness and heart of gold!!
First and foremost – thank God you’re safe. You did what you had to do in the moment and that’s all you had to do.
One afternoon when we lived in the Washington DC area, I was driving home from work when some lunatic began harrassing me on the road. He followed me, pulled up beside me, tried to run me off the road, and made several obscene gestures. It was a fairly isolated road so all I did was keep looking forward and pretend I was ignoring him. I was in my late twenties and scared to death. All I could think to do was make it to our local state police barracks where I could get help. (This was long before cell phones.) Finally he turned off the road and I high tailed it home as fast I I could get there, constantly glancing in the rear view mirror to ensure he wasn’t following me.
I arrived home safely and, extremely shaken, tried to share my experience with my husband. Big mistake…for him.
Being a man, he immediately began with “You should have…”
That’s when I lost it.
I told him, in no uncertain terms, to shut the hell up. He had no right to tell me what I should or shouldn’t have done because since he was a 6 foot tall, 220 pound man he would never have to face a problem like this. He would always walk the world in a confident state because he didn’t nor would ever know what it was like to be a girl in a testosterone led world. I was angry beyond angry.
Fortunately he saw the error of his ways, apologized and we remain married to this day.
But my anger was not really at him, it was aimed at the helplessness I felt while driving down that road. At the fact that men believe that it’s okay to behave this way and that I didn’t have the confidence to give it right back to him. That I have to walk around the planet not in a state of confidence but in an alert and wary state because who knows when there will be a man in a laundry room with his penis waving hello.
Bravo to you for doing the right thing. Maybe if you hadn’t said “Have a nice day” he would have followed you. You may have disarmed him enough to give you time to get away!
Sherry
Oh, Sherry! Your story and what you wrote in your comment reflect exactly my sentiments. Thank you for mirroring me so perfectly. And thank you for sharing your story.
Glad you’re still married. LOL.
Paige, I have a friend who had a similar experience in the grocery store. While squatted in the canned goods aisle looking at canned tomatoes, a man in a raincoat approached. Of course he stood beside her and when she looked up, he opened the coat. She said “well, I have a husband and two boys so I’ve seen that before. What you got ain’t that impressive.” She then got up and went to the front of the store and reported it. They locked the doors till the police came and carted the creep away. She’s my hero!
Glad you got
out okay and it didn’t escalate. Feel a threat = leave. No amount of pride, or maintaining some level of politeness is worth trading for your safety.
Paige- thank you for sharing this. You are a polite, sweet, well-mannered woman and that shines through even when some pervert exposes himself to you.
There used to be a commercial – for cigarettes of all things – that said “You’ve come a long way, baby” referring to women. And maybe we have, but we have MILES to go. Women will always second-guess themselves as long as we have people in courtrooms who question the attire of a victim of a sexual attack. On another note, I do think you should make a report to local law enforcement or to the owner/manager of your residential complex. Then next person he attempts to assault may not think as clearly on his/her feet as you did. I am glad you’re safe.
Beth, I did indeed report the issue. xox
My incident happened while in college…like so many. My then loser of boyfriend was our if town, so I went out with some people that I worked with. I got pretty lit and one of the fellas offered to drive me home in my car – I had a spare room and we both worked in the morning…no big deal , right? Well, he thought that he should just have his way with me while I was passed out. Thankfully, he got sick as he started to undress which woke me up and scared him out if my room. I didn’t know what to do. I locked my bedroom door and waited for morning. I was hoping that he would have just left and I wouldn’t have to deal with it…no such luck. I saw him sleeping on my couch when I can downstairs…I didn’t say anything about what happened…I didn’t want to feel more awkward. I ended up driving him to work since he didn’t have his car. Really lame.
I just had a texting stalker a couple months ago. He started texting me asking what color my panties were. Kept it up for several weeks, some times as many as 12 – 15 texts per day. His language escalated as well and became quite graphic. I reported him to the police, the number was a pre-paid cell phone. He did get a call from the police and he screamed at them and hung up. He changed his pre paid cell phone number and began texting me again. Same stuff. I reported him again, same deal. Untraceable number. I am a realtor and my photo is on my business card along with the the business number he was texting. For several weeks I felt like I was being watched. I didn’t know what he looked like but he knew who I was and could pick me out of a crowd. Possibly knew where my office was and could have identified my car. Was maybe a client of mine or was going to try to become a client? I stopped wearing my nametag for work. I stopped going into the office as much. He changed my behavior to a significant degree, because he decided to text me. The police were helpless to go after the guy. I just had to put up with it and hope it stopped and didn’t escalate.
Oh, Jill — That is so scary.
Paige, you are an awesome woman.
When I was in my 20s I was taking my younger sister to the airport. We were in a hurry, passing through the concourse rather quickly. I noticed a strange sound… metal on flooring, several ‘ping’ sounds. I looked to follow the sound, and realized it was coming from a seating area in the middle of the large concourse, where probably about a dozen men in military uniforms (camo) were congregated. Turns out, they were pitching pennies far across the concourse at women.
It was so strange, seeing these guys throwing pennies. They were also taunting the women (rather quietly, but noticeably) and goading each other on, chuckling. I was appalled, but needed to protect my sister and get on with it.
Once I got her flight situation sorted out, I walked back past the pack of dudes. They started throwing pennies my way, and I just couldn’t keep going.
I turned and marched up to them. Remember, them: about a dozen in-their-prime, strapping military members. Me: petite blonde 20-something in sweats.
Scared out of my mind, but full of righteous indignation, I walked up to the nearest one, got about a foot away and said, “You think you’re a big man? Does that make you feel good? Do you think that’s funny… throwing pennies at women?”
All the guys now stopped and looked at me.
Talk about scared and vulnerable. Thank god for ire.
He said nothing.
I got a little louder, “Do you think this makes you a big man?!”
He still said nothing. This almost made me as mad as the prior acts. I thought: He can’t even speak!
Finally, one of his buddies came over and said, “Hey. We’re sorry. We’ll stop.” He was actually a bit kind, and gently turned me so I could leave. And leave I did.
And within 10 seconds, a penny bounced by me.
I walked faster toward the parking lot, and the minute I turned the corner, I burst into tears! I had been so scared, so angry, so self-righteous, so SO furious. It all came out. Which also kinda made me feel angry… but that’s how it goes.
I still (20+ years later) think about that morning, remember the feeling of victimization, of needing to protect others, of requiring these ‘men’ to understand what they were doing, and how wrong it was.
I am appalled that there is anti-feminist chat brewing in the world these days… their argument that we don’t need the movement any more. That it’s an antiquated thought. Nope. Your story and my story and countless other stories show it’s still necessary.
I’m so sorry that you experienced this, and SO relate to your feelings about it all. You articulate it beautifully and I am pleased and proud and impressed that you have the courage to share your story.
Keep your innocence, and stand in your truth that no one deserves to be treated like that. <3 <3 <3
Tamara,
That is a gross story that shakes me at my core.
Thank you for sharing. And thank you for being a lone voice that dared to speak up in such a heinous situation.
I really get the anger that raged even more AFTER being apologizd too. It was like adding insult to injury. Aaaargh.
I applaud you.
xox
I’m glad nothing came of your incident. I understand what it’s like to go through something like that, but I wasn’t as lucky as you were. I applaud you for getting out in one piece. I know you were irritated at yourself for wishing him a nice day, but that is who you are. That is who I am. We are nice people. We stew about things later, about what we could of and should have done.
I got caught in a hotel room because I was nice and didn’t want a guy to get a DUI or hurt anyone in the 45 minute drive on the way home on New Years Eve. I was held captive for 8 hours, beaten within an inch of my life and raped repeatedly because I was a lesbian and I needed a “real man” to turn me. Belive me I have asked myself every day what I could have done differently every day. Thank God nothing happened to you. I have a service dog now who knows better than I do. He was given to me as a trauma dog for that and other things, but I am so thankful that you were unharmed.