Tail in the Tub

My freshman year, representatives from the group Columbia Men Against Violence gave a presentation in the Carman 11 lounge. Unbeknownst to them, their visit came in the aftermath of Ali hiring a stripper for Joel's birthday in that very same lounge. That's neither here nor there. The one thing I remember from their presentation was the admonition, if you're a guy walking down the street at night and there's a woman walking by herself a block ahead, you should cross the street so she doesn't feel insecure. I never could tell whether that was courtesy or paternalism.

I swam at the gym today, a process always followed by a soak in the hot tub. I prefer Anna to be my only soaking partner. Most of the guys at the gym tend to make funny faces while they soak. And I can never tell if women feel leered at them. Today I was joined in the tub by two women, who paid me no mind as they got in. And yet I felt as though I was obligated to get up, as though my presence would make them uncomfortable even though I was there first. This probably makes me the world's biggest SNAG, Sensitive New-Age Guy. So first I sat in unnatural positions staring at the roof pretending not to notice them. And then I just left, even though I wasn't done soaking. Anna says I should read Mr. Palomar. The problem is that I live in my own head, which is so full of little neuroses like that, it's a wonder I can walk in a straight line.