“Don’t Worry. I’m Impotent.”
So it happened again. A “Harry Met Sally” lite possibility goes off the rails because of a woman’s prejudices. This time I asked a young woman whom I’d gotten friendly with to help me with the grooming of two of my birds. She’s studying to be a beautician at a community college, so I figured that she’d be a natural for trimming nails and beaks. The last time I saw her, she had all but agreed to at least take a shot at it. I even told her that I’d pay her. Saw her this past Saturday and asked when she might be available. “Sorry.” Won’t do it because she’s afraid of harming the birds. Or so she said.
Did a little asking around. Turns out that she wasn’t so much afraid of injuring the birds, but afraid that I was hitting on her. Or maybe the boyfriend was. Who knows?
Okay, I’d be at least mildly shocked — she’s MUCH younger than I am, has a boyfriend, and a little weak in the wits department — if this hadn’t happened before. But it has. A bunch of times. I had one woman I met through a bird rescue want to travel out here from Chicago to drop off a Russian tortoise that I’d agreed to adopt from her. This, mind you, after I had already agreed to meet her in the city. She insisted that she and her son come my way. Fine, I said. Or so I thought. Unfortunately, after a few attempts on my part to be friendly via email (i.e., asking about her son’s interests, what they liked to eat, etc.) — all in the spirit of making the two of them feel comfortable — , on the day before their departure, she sends me an indignant email, wanting to make it ABUNDANTLY CLEAR that she had no interest in me beyond the tortoise. In fact, she was quite happy with her life, had no interest in a relationship (least of all with me!), so I should NOT be trying to make any moves on her. Needless to say. I was more than a little taken aback by all of this; but once I recovered, I shot her back an email, telling her to forget it. Which she did. But soon after followed another (last) email, with her demanding that I have ZERO contact with her, any time… for any thing…any where. That did not require much on my part. Although I did feel bad for the tortoise.
Then there was a woman whom I met via Facebook that had a shared interest in birds. We also became friendly but, again, I had no interest in a relationship beyond the platonic. Not only was she not pretty, but not my type in terms of body size either. To say that she was “rubenesque” would be more than charitable. Also, I’m Catholic. She, pagan. I’m conservative and monogamous. She, a former stripper and a lot less fussy. In other words, not a hell of a lot in common between us. But she, too, insisted on visiting me. This time, all the way from northeast Indiana. I kept telling her no and telling her no, and giving her one good reason after another for why it was a bad idea, including that I had no feelings for her. But she kept insisting. Finally, I just had to cut her off completely. But not before she had decided that I had a lot of nerve thinking she was interested in me sexually(!), and that I should stop thinking with my penis.
That was three out of probably a dozen more.
Nothing irks me more than when people make assumptions based on paltry evidence, or premised on how they would like the world to be. For instance, I wear a leather jacket. People keep their distance because they think I’m a biker — which I am — but my hog is equipped with pedals and a basket in the back. Or because I work with my hands and get them pretty dirty, they assume that I’m not book-smart. You’d think that the fact I wear glasses would counter that notion, even if it is as equally idiotic.
It’s gotten to the point where I feel as if I need to either start embracing stereotypes or maybe self-identify and advertise. I mean, come on, guys, at least give me a chance to PROVE that I’m the asshole you think I am. And perhaps for the ladies, I’d could begin to wear a t-shirt, saying: “Don’t worry: I’m impotent. Nothing to be afraid of here,” with an arrow pointing to my crotch.
(Just to clarify…. All of my organs are in fine, working condition. I’ve just decided to put certain ones in storage for awhile.)
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