Or did it? A few weeks ago when I was still working with the group, I had a couple conversations with an old-man writer. We talked, of course, about writing. My strengths are his weaknesses and his strengths are my weaknesses, so we had a lot to learn from each other. Plus, he's old- and therefore full of all kinds of knowledge he'd acquired over the many years he lived before I ever existed.
I am always appreciative of established people who want to take me under their wing, so when he asked for my address, I gave it to him. A couple people witnessed this exchange, and afterward my male mentor pulled me aside and asked me what the hell I was doing.
He proceeded to lecture me about my tendency to make myself vulnerable to these Pop-pops who have less-than-innocent intentions.
Men are still men, no matter the age, he told me, and he brought up the fact that we'd had this conversation before regarding another man old enough to be my father. It was established that I have a certain naivete when it comes to the elderly because I loved my grandfather so much.
But I was offended, not because I object to being called naive, but because I strive for the respect of my work. Is it so hard to believe that an elderly man would try to help me because he believed I had talent? That they offer their services and suggestions to me because they are impressed by my writing ability? And what about the women who have similarly adopted me? Should I assume they all want to sleep with me too?
It just makes me mad. He assures me that my writing is a part of it- that it increases the attraction. It was pointed out that I treat the younger men in the group much differently, that I am more wary of their advances and more likely to dismiss them completely because I don't want to lead them on. But the old guys, since I do not see them sexually and assume they don't see me that way either, I give them my respect, my full female attention- and they see this as reciprocation.
Apparently, I practice my flirting with the men I perceive as un-threatening. I giggle at their attempts at humor, I blush when they compliment me. I do these things, or so I am told by the people who observed this with a mix of concern and amusement. It's probably true, although completely unintentional.
And so I reflected on some of our conversations, and flashes of inappropriate jokes and suggestions were recalled- and I was horrified and disgusted.
Then I had to be gently reminded that these men are not child molesters. I am not a child. I am not even in my 20s. I am in their range. I am too old myself to be bound by the, "respect for elders, be seen and not heard" mantra of my childhood. I am an adult. I am old. God, it sucks!
Anyway, on Tuesday evening, a package arrived- a gift from my elderly suitor. It was a book that he had suggested for me, a very precise technical manual about the craft of writing. Enclosed was a handwritten note- all about writing, very formal.
Since Tim agrees with my mentor on this subject, I shoved the note in his face. "See? He doesn't suggest anything further than that I read this book."
Tim wasn't convinced, and predicted that when I contact him to thank him for the book, he will respond with an invitation. And goddamn it- he was right. He invited me to join him for soup, of all things, a denture-friendly date.
And so the jury is still out. I don't really see any danger in this for me. There is no way it would ever get physical with my consent. If I was interested in old men, I would have long ago been a kept woman in the lovely one bedroom Rittenhouse apartment my octagenarian architect used to tempt me. (Which I admit I think about sometimes when the heat doesn't work or scooter the mouse makes an appearance). This man isn't strong enough to rape me or hurt me in any way. More than one person has warned me about him, but I hate to assume that someone "likes" me unless they make it unmistakably obvious.
So whats the harm? And the
book
- it's fantastic. It's already been incredibly helpful. I may be able to learn a lot from this guy. And I'm always hungry...so is it absolutely horrible that I'm considering the soup?
was on Friday night and I stayed home to watch it. I then spent a few hours digging in my closet trying to find an old school nintendo and cursing my mother for giving away all my old NES cartridges. Very productive.
are meant to be compared to each other, especially Scarlett and Prissy. I did more than one presentation where I brought in an example and passed it around the room. 
thesis and offered their help. 
, even though it was a man's incredibly wrong interpretation of a feminist book. If you want to know about that, see the book I'm planning to write, which will be available on Amazon in about 20 years from now.
