Pay It Backwards

     Currently, there has been an outcry of condemnation for the norms of the past - slavery, racism, genocide, segregation, sexual harassment, sexual assault and bullying - to list a few. A comeuppance on behavior has led to charges in some instances. Think Bill Cosby and Harvey Weinstein, two pimply degenerates doing insufficent time. But they are only two of many.  

     The MeToo movement, years past but still in our rearview, has given many women a thoughtful moment, including me. Perhaps I, too, might have acted more assertively in past situations. Here's one example of how I'd like to rewind and do it over:     

     I lived in a small town once upon a time. Phil was a local painter, a grandiose landscape artist around my age, 40, and a good friend of my boyfriend. He was good-looking in an alcoholic Cary Grantish sort of way and had a young girlfriend with a great personality, but it didn't last long as Phil was having a shallower but more meaningful relationship with himself. 

     One night, me and my boyfriend, after drinking and partying and playing music at the bar all night, stumbled over to Phil's cabin to continue drinking and partying. Phil waved us in, drunk and pacing back and forth, excited about his latest painting, the 'best I've ever done'  he said, as he pointed to the large landscape sitting on an easel in the middle of the room. We drank more beer to celebrate. Yippee. Yahoo, my boyfriend yelled, his party call, while Phil bounced around pointing out the various aspects of his painting. He had never been so inspired.  

    After a few hours, we had drunk all the beer, our energy was flagging and it was late and with a lightening sky, it was time to go. My boyfriend and I stumbled towards the door with Phil behind us. But just as I was turning to say so long and stepping over the threshold, Phil's oily fingers grabbed my crotch from behind and twisted my little clam as if setting a minute minder. Just like that. When I turned, his eyes were gleaming. 

      How would the adult in me handle that situation if it happened today? What would I do? Just leave again, as I did? No. Because with age, I have a better sense of how to level the playing field because at that level, it's anybody's game. I've also learned through years of study and research that, for the most part, retribution is therapeutic.

      So here's how the night would have ended. After Phil pinches me, I would turn around and wobble back into his house saying I really had to bloody well pee. Right now! I'd charge back into the living room and while stumbling towards the shit can, I'd trip and drunkenly collapse over his painting, knocking it backwards and taking the table down with it, accidentally smearing his 'best ever' with cigarette butts, beer and ashes. I'd make like I was too drunk to stand, cursing and fumbling as I lie there, humping on the painting just for a lark to lighten the mood, cracking the frame as I lean on it to stand up again on my wobbly legs. So. Sorry.