My father, a very macho man, but one who considered himself enlightened, still liked the differences between men and women.
Age 89, we're in the car on the way to dialysis, he has difficulty breathing, walking. Just living, really, is difficult. Not much daily desire to flirt with anyone.
As a Navy guy he likes nothing better than a good joke, any type of joke, has no idea that the 'blue' jokes can be a form of sexual harassment in the wrong company. In years past he and his friends swapped these on the Internet, printed them out to read while playing cards. You can't trust your memory at some point.
I tell him a joke about being old and losing your memory. These, to my dad, are hysterical, even if you're in a ridiculous amount of pain. Then I share with him about a new business, working with a lawyer and a few other professionals to teach sexual harassment prevention, relationship safety, make the world a safer place, safer for women and men. It's an empathy thing, relationship safety.
He gets it right away that men, too, can be sexually harassed. As a businessman, a guy with his own store, he never liked it when anyone harassed a minority, any kind of minority. People are people. No one gets that better than storekeepers. You meet all kinds of people minding the store.
He's excited about the new venture (not so new), and very curious.
"I used to tell the women how pretty they were-- at work, anywhere-- I complimented women all the time." He stops and takes a breath. "Was that sexual harassment?"
Maybe. Knowing you, Dad, probably. Even if you didn't mean it, if they didn't like it, you might not have been able to tell, so you would continue doing it.
"But it made them feel good! I was just making people feel good! There never was any doubt about me wanting anything other than that. And your mother worked in the store. I told her she looked good. I told you that you looked good."
You flirted with other women right in front of her.
"So is that bad? She knew I wasn't doing anything."
Words are everything, poor guy has to hear from his daughter, at his age. They matter, especially from the boss. If a woman tells you to stop flirting and you don't, then you're harassing her. You can be breaking the law. It's harassment before she tells you to stop, but all the more so after she tells you to stop. It's not about you, not about what you think, it's about her, how she takes it, how she feels.
"I just thought . . . She smiles. It's a compliment. She knows me, there's nothing wrong with that."
We're telling guys, and women, too, I tell him, not to comment on new clothes, not to say anything about how an article of clothing fits someone, or how their make-up looks. Stay away from anything that might make a person think you're coming onto them, or you find them sexy.
"I'm glad I retired in time," he tells me. "I couldn't have changed."
He's on his way to dialysis, and there are women who are going to be prodding and poking, helping him in and out of the chair. They like my father. We both know that they've probably heard worse.
therapydoc
The blog is a reflection of multi-disciplinary scholarship, academic degrees, and all kinds of letters after my name to make me feel big. The blog is NOT to treat or replace human to human legal, psychological or medical professional help. References to people, even to me, are entirely fictional.
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Showing posts with label my father. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my father. Show all posts
Thursday, December 02, 2010
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