Monday Dare: Sir, your hand is on my ass.

Every Monday, I’m picking from the List of Things to Do, Places to Go, Possible Acts that Help, and Possible Fun to Have. It’s a list I made before The Project started, and I’m still adding to it. If you have suggestions, please feel free to throw them my way. I’m calling the list my Monday Dares, as I get overwhelmed just looking at the words “challenge” or “goal.”

This week: Say it

Before my trip to Las Vegas over the weekend, my checklist to gauge whether I had a good time on vacation was simple.

  • Did I come back with all four limbs? (Preferable answer: Yes)
  • Did I offend anyone? (Preferable but totally unrealistic answer: No)
  • Did I get in trouble with the law? (Preferable answer: Yes. Surprised every time I accomplish it? Yes.)

Since returning home last night, I’ve added something new to my list.

  • Did I end up alone in a piano bar at 2 a.m. crying like a little girl? (Preferable answer: No)

I’m assuming this list looks a lot like your own Vacation Success Checklist. If it doesn’t, I would suggest adding these, especially the last one. And maybe the one about coming back with all four limbs. I hear it’s a bitch trying to learn how to floss your teeth with your toes.

My friend Kris and I meet in Vegas several times a year. We’ve known each other for 19 years. Sometimes, I wonder how we’ve been friends for so long. She’s the embodiment of class and diplomacy, and I, well, you know what I’m trying to say here folks.

We got separated in a nightspot roughly the size of a football field on Friday evening. No biggie. We pick a spot before the night starts in case this happens. Plus, a local friend was stopping by, so I knew it wouldn’t be long before I saw a friendly face in the crowd.

Do you know what makes a female a target for all kinds of lewd and lascivious behavior when she’s standing alone in a club at 1:30 a.m.? Being a female standing alone in a club at 1:30 a.m.

Men grabbed my ass, my waist, my breasts, made rude and perverted comments, spilled drinks on my dress, ashed their cigarettes on my feet, pushed, shoved, screamed in my ear, tried to entice me by talking up their fancy jobs and cars, flashed jewelry in my face, and offered to buy me drinks in return for favors.

At first, I tried to be a good sport. I laughed it off. Then, I ignored it. Finally, I left. I can’t say that this is the first time any of this has happened. Usually, I am better about calling out bad behavior or sticking up for myself. I wish I had said something to each of these men. But, I didn’t. I didn’t find my voice.

I found a piano bar and sat in a quiet corner, trying to convince myself that I hadn’t spoken up because I’ve been working so hard on controlling my temper and behaving like a lady. Those were excuses. I didn’t say anything because I let myself be intimidated. I chalked it up as crazy, alcohol-induced behavior.

If this happens to you, all you have to say is “Listen here, you stupid motherfucker, I understand you are shitfaced, but your behavior is not okay.” If you feel like being a lady, you can even say it with a smile. I’ll be practicing this line as well. I may have just spared you from crying in a piano bar. You’re welcome.

P.S. Pictures of the Vegas adventure on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page.
image via

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