Question: what do you do when a man is checking out your girlfriend?
Picture this: Miss and I go out to a chic sushi restaurant the other night. There is a wait for our table, so we saunter up to the bar to grab a cocktail. While I play the popular game of “pay attention to me” with the overly-busy bartender, I notice Miss getting plenty of attention from a nearby male patron. He sends a smile her way and mouths “hi.” She briefly, politely and coolly smiles, turning away to look at me with an eye roll and a reassuring grin. He notices me looking at him and he smiles wide and nods with an innocent “how you doing?” To him, I look just like a casual girlfriend, hanging out with my buddy on a Friday night. Not like her GIRLFRIEND. He’s done nothing lascivious, he’s remained polite and is innocently attempting to meet a lovely young woman for companionship. Not a crime.
It’s hard for guys. I get that. (It’s hard for girls too, btw.) I don’t fault him for looking for love – or a little fun for that matter. I certainly am proud of Miss for being the beauty that she is. Here is where I have difficulty though. I have no idea how to respond. I get jealous. It’s a natural response. I can’t help it. My hackles go up a bit and I want to ask him who the fuck he thinks he is, hitting on my girlfriend. Now thankfully, I am a sane person and do not do this. Nor do I take it out on Miss, mind you. I simply smile at her and take her hand, squeezing it a tad, as if to remind her (or myself) that she is mine.
If I were a man, or a more “visually obvious” lesbian, it would perhaps be more apparent we were together and no halfway conscientious male would bother. Instead I look like her roommate or her work buddy, out to hit the town and rehash old Sex & the City episodes while we cruise for cute boys. Inevitably, one or the both of us gets hit on.
After a polite, but cool response, most men get the hint and move on. However, sometimes they do not. Too much alcohol or testosterone can convince even the homeliest of fellows that their sperm are tres desirable, and they continue their unwanted pursuit with abandon. At which point I feel like an angry bull-dyke if I speak my mind, or a timid pussy if I say nothing. If I put my arms around her or kiss her there is the inevitable sexiness of two women at play. With the alcohol-laden men, this can be an extreme problem. I’ve learned not to go there.
I think the guy at the sushi restaurant saw the “eat shit and die” look on my face and probably mentioned to his friend that “the tall one looks like a bitch.” I’m really not a bitch. I promise. I just don’t know how to behave in the “don’t-touch-my-woman” scenario. I’m sorry. Truly. Just… don’t touch my woman. Please. I don’t want to have to get bull-dykey on your ass.
xoxo,
Ms.
