When Older Men Hit On You - What I Needed to Hear at 15

I just saw a post on Reddit that made me pause, and remember.

The question was "Women who were hit on by grown men when you were a teenager, what did you do?"  The girl asking the question was 15 years old.

The one thing that men will never understand is how this feels when you are a young girl.  Your whole world changes, forever.  It is the moment your childhood ends because you realise that you are no longer safe.  You can no longer dance carefree through the world as you used to.  It does not change in one day, it happens incrementally.  The rules that will change you and cage you appear so very quickly.

I hit puberty early and started to develop breasts when I was 11.  

I used to go to a park very close to our home which had swings, a roundabout and a slide.  I used to like going to play there when I was younger and even at 11/12 I would still go there, on my own, swinging around on the roundabout with a book.

That particular day, while happily sitting on the roundabout, a group of older boys turned up.  They were probably 15 years old.  They started to talk about me.  "Look, she's got tits already!".  They could see I was still so very young.  They came closer to me, asking me if they could touch them.  I ran away home and thankfully nothing more happened.

There was an awkwardness, a lack of understanding and some fear about that day.  But it was explained away as silliness of older boys and not to worry about it.  Although with a warning perhaps not to go there alone again.  

Don't go out on your own, it isn't safe.

I started to notice that adult me were starting to treat me differently.  At first I brushed it off until I started to recognise the signs.  The way they spoke to you was different.  Not like you speak to a child.  Almost flirting.   But subtly.  It was the look in the eyes that did it.  The way they would tell me I was so pretty and that all the men would be after me soon.  With a certain look in their eyes.  The way they pressed just that bit closer than I was used to, than I felt uncomfortable with.

Back then, I  did not understand their intentions, but I knew that something had changed and I did not like the way they looked at me.  The way they stepped that little bit closer to me.  I felt like a rabbit being eyed by a fox.

Be careful with adult men.

The older I got, the more developed I looked, the more this came to happen.  Some men, even men I had known as a child looked at me in a different way.  Like I was a woman.  Except I wasn't.  By the time I was 13 my fellow male pupils started to notice my shape too.  The size of my breasts gained me a nickname at school, which I won't share here.  There was also a presumption that I was "up for it", purely based on that my breasts were large.

Cover up or you are asking for it.

Over time, as we all do, I learned how to get away from the older men and deal with them.  Boys were a a different story and the lessons of how to deal with my peers look far longer.

That is the advice that I shared on the Reddit post.

 I went through this. From 12. Be strong is the first thing. It can be hard and they can be persistent. I will tell you what I used to do, which worked generally.

Say loudly "You do know I'm only 15 right? Then walk away.

If you are stuck in the conversation or the room with the man, say at a family party or something, look at him direct in the eye and say to him in a normal tone "This isn't the way you should be speaking to a 15 year old. Leave me alone". Then walk away.

If you are in public, go up to the nearest woman and tell her what he is doing/saying. She WILL look after you. I never had a woman walk away from me. Because we have all been there.

Be strong OP. Look them in the eyes when you say the above to them. Make them feel as uncomfortable as they did to you.

Looking them in the eye was definately the key for me. Making them understand that I knew what they were doing and that I knew that he knew that how he was behaving was wrong.

Sometimes if I was at a gathering or party where I knew other women, I would repeat what the man had said to me to the nearest woman. "Hey Aunty June, Bob thinks I should go out on a date with him, what do you think?"

I was strong because I had to be. But there are things that I wish that I could tell that 15 year old girl now.

• Your worth does not go up and down depending on what you look like.
• If he is over 5 years older than you and he is flirting with you, do not trust him.
• It is not "cool" if an older men is flirting with you, no matter how attractive he is. He is a predator.
• If someone does something bad to you, TELL SOMEONE. It is not your fault.
• You will be ok, I promise.

What would you tell your 15 year old self?

An Ode to (the Old) Sex and the City

I preface this post by saying that when I write about Sex and the City, I am only talking about the series and the two films for the purposes of this post.  I just can't talk about "And Just Like That".

I remember when Sex and the City came across my screen in the 1999.   

Many people did (and still do) say that the show was purely about sex and shoes.  Fluff content.  True enough there is a lot of sex and shoes in SATC.  But there is also something much more in the characters of Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda that represent many women.

 

I saw something in each of those women that represented myself.  Things I was and things that I wanted to be but also, I saw my imperfections in them too.  That was the important part.  They were not perfect.  Far from it.  But I could identify with each of them in different ways.

 

I saw four completely different people, four friends, that were soulmates.  The four of them combined made one beautiful whole.  A friendship that would last forever and through anything.  A constant in each other's lives, forever.

 

First there was Carrie with her writing, her distinct sense of style and the men in her life.  Several men throughout the series, but she knew as did we, the one that would always have her heart.  Mr Big.  The One.   Carrie could also be self centred and more than a little self absorbed at times.  

 

I wanted to write like her, I lived vicariously through her sense of style that I would never come close to and I understood completely that once your heart is taken, you never really get it back.  I was lucky with that last one.

 

But also, I am also a little self centred and a little self absorbed.  I recognise it and try to work on it.  But it was nice to see a lead character portrayed as less than perfect.

 

I also saw myself in Charlotte.  Charlotte who wanted nothing more than to fall in love and marry.  Charlotte was also a little spoiled and thought nothing of giving up her successful career to be a stay at home wife, although with Trey, she had not thought this through.  The typical rich bitch, except Charlotte was not a bitch.  I’m not sure she would ever say the word, except in whisper.  But she believed in true love, real love, and the right “one”.  That definitely is me.

 

Then we have Miranda,  I could see so much of myself in Miranda too.  Despite her successful career, she had so many insecurities.  She pushed men away, especially Steve, until she realised, almost when it was too late, he was the one.  (Actively ignoring the new Miranda in the new series. That is not Miranda).

She was never without an opinion, even through her insecurities, which was brought out more in her by her friends.  She blossomed in those friendships.  She learned from them and with them and also learned to trust and love with Steve.  Miranda's journey to let down her walls, trust and love was something that I understand and have lived. 

 

Finally, Samantha.  I never wanted to be Samantha or aspire to her love for bed hopping.  But I appreciated her.  I loved her.  

Samantha was the best friend of all of them.  The better friend.  I feel she loved the rest of them the most.

 

I loved how unapologetic Samantha was.  She was beautiful and acknowledged it, but in a manner of fact way rather than boastful.  She had a great career and she knew what she wanted (and nearly always got it).  Her life may not be one that many of us would choose in the relationship department, but the thing about Samantha was that she was never anything but completely herself, making up her own rules.  I admired that.

 

“I love you, but I love me more”.  While those are not words you would hear from me, it is important that we love ourselves too.

 

Over the 6 seasons (was it really only 6?) you got to know these women inside and out.  You knew their characters, their strengths, their flaws and their weaknesses.  You got to know them so well that you could anticipate what each of them would do.

 

Carrie, that she would always and forever, belong to Big.  Wherever her path led her, it would always find its way back to him.

Charlotte, that she would do anything for love, even convert to another religion.

Miranda, that she was clever enough (eventually) to realise and tell Steve that she loved him.  That she didn’t have to be alone.  That she could rely on another person.

Samantha, that she would move heaven and earth for a friend, maybe not for a man.

What they have done to Sex and the City with the reboot of And Just Like That is ruin it.  Because they changed the people that they were.  Miranda most of all.  I watched the first season and I did not recognise the woman that I knew and had resonated with.  It was, quite simply, a betrayal.

I understood what the Star Wars fans were talking about with the reboots killing what they have grown up with and loved.  I went into and through my adulthood with those four women and the changes they made to their characters and the choices that they made, was wrong.   For what?  Money.

At least Kim Cattrell had the integrity not to join in, although I also cannot blame her for the apparent phone call they had I believe in the second season.  That must have been some pay off.

So I will keep my heart with the original series and not watch any of the new series.   The women I knew are no longer there.

Lessons Learned

 I’ve been learning a lot recently.  Both about who I am, why I am the way I am and also the root causes of that.  As always when you are on a journey like this, there are ups and downs.  Happy surprises and also, disappointments.

One of the lessons that I am learning is that there is no perfect person, and everyone has had something in their life that can carry on to the next generation, or can be taken out on the next generation; if you let it.

When someone hurts you, or wants to hurt you, there is often a reason behind that, that has nothing to do with you.  They are choosing to take it out on you, you are the target and the focus of their actions; but the root cause lies elsewhere.

Sometimes, certainly on the journey that I am on, understanding the root cause of the other person’s pain, can help to heal your own.

You may not ever forgive them, but you don’t always have to forgive.  You may not ever forget.  But, you can understand where they came from and what formed their behaviour.  And you can choose not to make their mistakes.

This can apply to many people, in all aspects of your life.

The lessons that are the hardest to learn are those when the person hurting you or hurt you in the past is a loved one or someone you know well.  Because a loved one is the person that you turn to.  They should not be the one that has caused you harm.

When this happens, you think to yourself over and over “What did I do wrong?  Why do they treat me this way?”  “Why don’t they love me?”  The answer that you seek however is often not the most obvious one.

I spent years analysing and trying to move on from the pain that was caused to me.  But I was only dealing with the effect of those words and actions against me.  Not the cause.  Because I did not know the cause.  The root of the issue, that had nothing to do with me.

I reached a point where the actions no longer hurt me, but I finally wanted answers.  I wanted to know why.  I was ready to face it.  I had reached, finally, the stage of anger.  Anger is not usually a good emotion, but in my case, it forced me to re-examine everything and the person that I was angry at.

What I realised was that their actions, however hurtful, however horrible, did have a root cause.  An explanation as to why they were the way they were.

I won’t talk further here as I do not want to go into my history.  But learning to understand them, what experiences they had had that made them the way they were, put everything together like a jigsaw puzzle.

I learned to understand that forgiveness is not possible sometimes because forgiveness is not always deserved.  But understanding the why, was the key to healing.  The key to moving on.  

Furthermore, in understanding them and their actions more clearly, this gave me an understanding as to myself.  My own reactions to their actions.  The way I had set up my life as a result.

What I realised is that I do not need to do that anymore.  I understand now.  I can move on, lead my life and be who I really am.  Also, I can build a better relationship with them.  Because now I see some of myself in them, but I am not destined to repeat history.  I have chosen not to.  I am like them. But I am not them.

I can finally be, myself.