When a man expresses his attraction for you, it doesn't make him creepy. If you aren't attracted to him, that still doesn't make him creepy. If he's older than you or bigger than you, that doesn't make him creepy either. What makes a man creepy is if he expresses his attraction, is rebuffed, then continues to express his attraction in a way that makes you uncomfortable after you've CLEARLY expressed that discomfort. By clearly, I mean saying it in words that aren't ambiguous. Nervous giggles are ambiguous.
If you complain to me about being hit on, I'm going to say, "I'm sorry someone took the time to let you know you're attractive. How awful that must have been for you. Sit down, you must be exhausted. Do you need anything? Anything at all?" Then I will lick my hand and slap you on your face. You will feel hurt and disgusted. You will feel how I feel.
I'm rarely checked out, at least in any way I notice. Men don't often hit on me. Still, I'm a sucker for the rare occasion a man says I'm attractive. I'm happy to hear it, like any other human being on the Earth planet. I don't even have to find him attractive to be flattered.
I find some of my friends attractive. I hope they're flattered.
I had a dream last night about a hot redheaded man named Diffrick. He was shirtless and smoking a cigarette outside my childhood church. He had a dotting of shoulder freckles. It pressed most of my buttons. Diffrick is a real name people have, says Google, says my brain when I'm dreaming.
If you asked me to name the nameless characters in my stories, I'd name them all Jack, even the women and children. Jack is no name for a child, though. You could name a dog Jack, but you'd have to tie a bandana around his neck instead of a collar. This dog would catch criminals. He would look like he was smiling when he panted. It would sound like he was saying your name when he barked. He would open doors with his mouth. He would be Velociraptor smart. I'm not a dog person. Naming a dog Jack would give the dog the wrong idea. Don't give the name Jack to anything you love.
If you complain to me about being hit on, I'm going to say, "I'm sorry someone took the time to let you know you're attractive. How awful that must have been for you. Sit down, you must be exhausted. Do you need anything? Anything at all?" Then I will lick my hand and slap you on your face. You will feel hurt and disgusted. You will feel how I feel.
I'm rarely checked out, at least in any way I notice. Men don't often hit on me. Still, I'm a sucker for the rare occasion a man says I'm attractive. I'm happy to hear it, like any other human being on the Earth planet. I don't even have to find him attractive to be flattered.
I find some of my friends attractive. I hope they're flattered.
I had a dream last night about a hot redheaded man named Diffrick. He was shirtless and smoking a cigarette outside my childhood church. He had a dotting of shoulder freckles. It pressed most of my buttons. Diffrick is a real name people have, says Google, says my brain when I'm dreaming.
If you asked me to name the nameless characters in my stories, I'd name them all Jack, even the women and children. Jack is no name for a child, though. You could name a dog Jack, but you'd have to tie a bandana around his neck instead of a collar. This dog would catch criminals. He would look like he was smiling when he panted. It would sound like he was saying your name when he barked. He would open doors with his mouth. He would be Velociraptor smart. I'm not a dog person. Naming a dog Jack would give the dog the wrong idea. Don't give the name Jack to anything you love.