Me, Too

This man, with his wife sitting next to him, in a public place, stuck his hand up the back of my dress and scratched my back, all the while grinning at me. Because we were in public, actually in a quite nice restaurant, I made a joke about it. Because that's what I do. Deflect with humor. Did you lose something? Whatever it was, you're not going to find it there. He slowly withdrew his hand, trailing it along my rear end and legs. I felt sick and degraded the rest of the evening. I had been walking around our table, camera in hand, taking pics of all the couples we were having dinner with. This was not my regular group of friends, I had been invited by someone who was one of the group. And he said to me later that week, yeah, when &*%#@ gets into the wine, he gets a little frisky. Frisky? He sexually assaulted me, I said. I did not ask for it, I did not want it, I was horrified and disgusted. Shame on you for apologizing for his vile behavior. It wasn't the first time I had dealt with this sort of unwelcome behavior in a man, both socially and in the workplace. I've handled the situation better, but it never is easy. This particular incident was only four years ago, and I point that out for one reason. At the ripe old age of 56 I still hesitated to call it what it was in the moment, made a joke for the comfort of others in the room, and went on with the evening. Things won't change until we call out these despicable men for their unacceptable acts. This man sexually assaulted me. It wasn't, and never will be, okay.