For those who don't believe, Number Eight

I am 50
This one - this one I don't even think of as any kind of assault. It's just kind of disgusting.

I wasn't hurt. I wasn't scared. I was more - shocked. And then offended.

It didn't occur to me to think of this as anything other than, "Well, that guy was gross."

It's the middle of the afternoon. I am running on the tree-lined streets in my quiet, middle-class neighborhood.

I notice a car parked and a young man sitting inside it. Odd, I think. It's the middle of the day on a work day (I am working from home). Why isn't that guy at work? Why is he just sitting there?

I continue to trot along. Whatever.

A few minutes later, I notice the same guy parked on the next street.

That's really odd.

Do I notice him a third time? Or is the second time enough for me to be nosy and want to give him a Hey if you're casing the neighborhood, I am watching you. You have been seen.

I try to memorize his car and plates. I'm not good at that kind of thing. I would make a horrible detective.

I approach him.

"Hi there!" I say. "I keep seeing you around."

That's a coded, "Dude. What are you doing? This is not common behavior."

He greets me.

"So - what are you doing?"

He tells me that he wants to start an online real-estate business so he is looking at houses for sale in my neighborhood.

Fine. Whatever. I don't really care what you're doing - I just want you to know that you have been seen because your behavior is not the behavior one expects in the middle of a workday.

And this is where I get really stupid and why I'm kind of embarrassed - no, not kind of - completely embarrassed to tell this story and I almost didn't tell it because I feel like I kind of asked for it.

I joke. I joke to dispel the awkward of, "I approached you because I am suspicious hahahaha but really I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation and this is none of my business anyhow."

I say, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure you're not just following a chubby middle-aged woman out for a run."

Ouch.

It's embarrassing even typing these words.

I should not have said that.

Why did I say that?

Why didn't I just go along on my way?

I am an idiot.

Because apparently,,  my comment  opens the door for him.

"Oh you got some nice jiggle!" he says.

Ummmmmm.

What?

This is not where I saw things going. I expected him to laugh and be on his way.

But - I stupidly said it.

I laugh nervously.

And he says something about how he likes thick women and is my husband thick --

"We are not having this conversation," I say. I back away.

"No, no, no! Come here!" he says.

And - I see his arm moving up and down.

And. I run.

I am an idiot.

In which The Woman Fights Back

You guys, run, do not walk, to your bookstore or your library to get my friend Jeff Abbott's new book, The Three Beths. It is worth it just for this scene. (I mean, it's worth it for all of it, but THIS SCENE!)

A young man with a weasel's smile had stopped at the patio's fence along the shopping center walkway and was trying to chat up the solitary young woman, who was trying to focus on her book.

"That a good book?" he asked. "You could turn my pages."

The young woman didn't answer, but she fidgeted in the seat, eyes on the page.

"Question is why a fine young babe l like you needs to fill her time reading when I'm right here, ready to buy you a drink."

"I'm not interested, thanks," the young woman said. "I have a boyfriend."

"Yet here you are alone."

"No, thanks."

The jerk took immediate offense. "Listen, you think you too good for me? You're not."

"Excuse me," Mariah said. She stood and walked over to the table.

"Mariah..." Reveal started to say,  but he kept his seat.

"Please, I'm just trying to read in peace," the young woman said to the jerk. An angry edge in her voice now. "Go away, I'm not interested."

"Listen, books make you into a snotty bitch, from what I can see," the jerk said.

"Hey," Mariah said, now standing at the woman's table, across from the jerk. She was tall, but not quite as tall as he was. "She said she's not interested. Move along."

The jerk smiled. Then he laughed. Mariah watched him study and gauge her  and could imagine his thoughts. Here was this tall, solid, mouthy annoyance, dressed in black slacks, black mock turtleneck, even a black barrette holding back her hair. "Listen, was I talking to your ugly face? Is this patio bitch central? Because all of you need to..."

At the word need he jabbed a finger at Mariah, and a sudden sharp rage rose in her chest. Her hand lashed out and caught one of his fingers and wrenched it. The jerk's mouth opened in pain; he tried to pull the hand back, but with the table between them Mariah had the leverage.

"Another millimeter, genius, and it breaks," she said gently. "Step back and walk away. And consider how you talk to women. I mean, has this idiotic banter ever worked for you? Ever?"

"You whore..." and he tried to yank his hand back.

The snap of the breaking bone was loud.

Oh. Yes. This is so satisfying.