I was raised with a certain code of behavior, especially regarding women. Women are to be regarded with the utmost respect. This eventually translated into a crippling fear of the opposite sex, a fear for which I blame both my parents: my mom for having me put women on a pedestal and my dad for not being around to teach me how a man is supposed to interact with women. That is why I and all the male heterosexual children of divorce will remain single from now until eternity. Once eternity hits, we’ll find a nice girl to settle down with.
However, I know that there are women who work in a different section of society. They operate purely in the realm of the sexual so conventional social mores of interaction no longer apply. The rules in this realm are the complete opposite. You’re supposed to ogle. You’re supposed to put money inside underwear. You’re supposed to not care about what they have to say or who they are as human beings. The customer-stripper relationship is sacrosanct the only “No” you’ll encounter is when it comes to touching. They can touch you but you can’t touch them. This is better than no one touching you at all.
But in between is where the world is turned upside down and I’m lost in the ether. This is the realm of Hooters, casino waitresses, and any other attractive young woman who is praying off your sexual appetite but will in no way disrobe for you no matter how many singles you have. So what to do? What is the standard social practice? Am I supposed to stare? These women are working jobs that have been done by many a clothed human being. Bringing me my food does not get me aroused at Chili’s but if I go to Hooters, it’s a different story (especially if I’m hungry). Pretend that the waitress isn’t attractive? Pretend that her t-shirt and booty shorts aren’t serving their intended purpose exceedingly well? It’s too much stress. I just want to enjoy my chicken wings without feeling like a pervert.
Not knowing how to act around attractive women on a day-to-day basis is difficult enough. But at least they’re not actively trying to tempt me with the illusion of any kind of physical contact (although they’re more than welcome to try!). I cannot say the same for these testaments to sexual innuendo. I’m not mad at them or even depressed. I just wish Emily Post had laid out some ground rules for the situation.
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