Ladyfingers: You’re a creep

Flattery: We’ve all experienced it in some form or another, either with the receipt or delivery of it. Initially, I wanted to say that a wise person once said flattery is the biggest compliment, but a quick Google search showed that I might have mixed that up with some other saying by a person who was cool enough to have someone put their thoughts between quotation marks. I digress. You see, the thing about flattery is that it can be used as a disguise. This is when an individual may say they are trying to flatter you, but really the words they use do nothing of the sort. And they know it.

Now, first let me start by saying I am not referring to the occasional compliment by a stranger; those are lovely, and I think everyone deserves to hear nice things about themselves once in awhile. I’m talking about lines that could be found on page 27 of The Creepy Man’s Guide to Scaring the Shit Out of Women (working title). There is no charm, there is no grace; there is only the reassurance of my sexuality by the shutting of the steel trap that is my vagina. I wish there was room for commendation on creativity, but there is none of that either. These moments I’ve experienced have left me baffled. I am almost always left with my jaw dropped, followed by a borderline-hysterical laugh that distracts Sir Creeps-A-Lot, while my eyes feverishly look for my closest savior. This response is not working; this cannot be my only solution. Let me take you on this small journey, and maybe we can all figure one out together. If not that, then at least we can laugh and cringe in unison, like synchronized swimmers in a pool of unsolicited sexual brickbats. Heads underwater, legs in the air.

The following three scenarios I have found to be the most memorable, and the least I can do is share them with you. Please enjoy.

I once had an older fella ask me if I wanted to find out the difference between his dick and a chicken bone while simultaneously rubbing his index finger inside my palm. This wasn’t as uncomfortable as it was confusing, which in turn made it more uncomfortable in the end. Another man asked me if it was weird that he wanted to shoot bodily fluid into my eye and nostril. (That one was on the internet, which is fortunate for him, because I probably would have shot my own bodily fluid on him in the form of projectile vomit). Most recently, I had a decent looking man ask me on a date, and upon informing him that I was a lesbian, he told me that he just wanted to put an “honest dick” inside of me. I told him that I wanted to put my honest dick in his mouth so he would stop talking. Actually, I did not say that, and I’m sorry for lying. I didn’t say anything, and I thought of all the things I should have said afterwards (such as the aforementioned “penis of my own” comeback; that would have been gold and thus, my problem).

I have a lot of straight men in my life, two of whom I’ve spent nearly everyday of the last two-and-a half years with on the show that has given me many opportunities such as the one to write to you. These are good men. These are honest men. These are men that I am certain would never offer an honest dick to a lesbian they met for the first time. For that, I am thankful. It should just be a thing, being decent that is. Yet, when I am told that someone’s bodily fluids have the desired destination of my eyes and nose, I am quickly reminded that decency may not be as common of “a thing” that I had hoped it was. And that’s just fine.

If I’m being totally honest with you, I did find myself thinking about those moments over and over again in my head, getting angry as every word echoed in repeat; getting angrier that I was letting those assholes make an impression on me. It wasn’t fair. The respect I deserved was replaced by a man’s outspoken and nonsensical solution to my sexuality.There is no solution, my naive straight non-friend. There is no cure for my lady-lovin’. However, even with that, I realized that there may be no stopping The Creep. He will live on and be encountered again, in all different shapes, sizes, and smells (I have a very powerful sense of smell, more of a burden than a blessing, really). Alas, I survived and will continue to survive. I can find my flattery elsewhere, the kind not being used as a disguise. Shit, I might just go ahead and write The Creepy Man’s Guide to Scaring the Shit Out of Women myself. I’ll make sure the preface starts with, “DO NOT FUCKING USE THESE LINES EVER!!!” So, bring it on, Creep-os! Mama is ready to put you between quotation marks.

Sabrina Ambra is a cohost of Real Radio 104.1’s “News Junkie” program and will kick your ass if she needs to.