Stop Tryin’ to Jump My Bones in Public

Years ago my brother and I were having a drink at a lounge. When he left to go to the men’s room a confident, dark-haired man slipped onto the empty stool and began a conversation.

When I let him know that I wasn’t interested he tried to get my attention by reaching over and … grabbing my breast.

The creep saw my brother returning and slithered away.

I just let it go, knowing that my brother would seriously hurt that man.

Vicky Simister would not … just let it go.

Walking alone on a South London street one night, she senses a car following her.

Men call out to the frightened woman, making vulgar suggestions to persuade her to get into their vehicle.

Heart pounding, her pace quickens as she ignores their lewd remarks. Determined, their words become more aggressive.

By the time she reaches the underground station Vicky Simister has had enough. She
slams the stalker’s car and runs.

The angry men chase the terrified woman, grab her by throat and pin her against the wall.

Vicky Simister was not going to be assaulted in the street and go quietly into the night. She created “Anti-Street Harassment UK.” It offers a forum where women can share experiences, show photos of their stalkers, and lend support.

There are many of these groups springing up around the world. A movement called Hollaback! began in the U.S. and will soon begin new groups from India to Croatia.

Women are assailed everyday on the street. In the 70s there was a movement called “Reclaim the Night” to try make it safer for women.

It’s an age-old problem. I hear that a lot.

I disagree.

We have to look at how we got here.

Growing up in the Fifties a man may whistle, but wouldn’t dare grab my breast.

What changed? The man who did that to me knew it was wrong but felt no guilt; actually felt entitled.


Permissiveness: We started down this slippery slope when…

The hippy movement in the Sixties began a newfound freedom which encouraged us to “express ourselves.” Be more open, not so uptight. Those who lived it will never forget Woodstock.

It was the greatest rock n roll concert that ever was or ever will be. Shut down the New Jersey Turnpike. Unfortunately it also began the drug culture.

Communes sprang up everywhere—groups of people living together, getting high, not working, panhandling; no life purpose.

Gradually technology progressed and the Baby Boomers came along. More permissiveness. A ten-year-old has a cell phone, takes it to school, texting instead of learning.

Today we can’t watch a TV commercial about a box of rice without sexual content. Family programs bombard us with vulgar language and nudity.

Mary, Alice, Jenny, all wear low-cut tops to work, yet when having a conversation with a male coworker are insulted if he stares at their breasts.

And let’s not leave out the violence.

Parents stand in line at three in the morning to buy junior the latest console so he can play the most violent games imaginable.

And where is fifteen-year-old Suzy? In the bedroom showing her boyfriend a naked photo she took on her camera phone; which will soon be spread all over the Internet.

Check out the TV ad about the washer and dryer. They bring on the husband in the recliner, twins in the sand box, and the daughter in the bedroom with the boyfriend—who slams the door on mom.

Please, don’t misunderstand. It is never okay for a man to take advantage of a woman. I have been there in a BIG way, went through great suffering.

What I am saying is that I keep hearing it’s always been this way and I don’t agree.

Boys didn’t even curse in front of girls when I was in school. Now girls constantly use the F word.

I hear parents use it in front of their small children everywhere I go … with their breasts exposed to the world.

It’s that slippery slope created by…

May Your Glass Always Be Half Full

is a suspense romance thriller.
Read Chapter Five at:



About Maxi

Hi … I'm Maxi, a retiree with an addiction. I have quit: raising kids, cleaning house, cooking, doing laundry—there is no end the list—everything is done on "have to." The addiction? Writing to my last breath. blessings ~ maxi
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