Perv Alert

Why is it that old married men seem to think it’s ok to tell younger female co-workers that they are insanely attracted to them? What is it about me, that I attract such nuts? Do they really think, that I will smile and say, “Yes, I think you’re hot, too. Let’s forget about your wife?”

An older co-worker, who is definitely a bit socially challenged, a creeper (not just a creep), has been asking me to go get coffee with him for a while. We have a Peet’s downstairs in our office building, and any of various combinations of people from the office go down for a cup of their preferred poison, on any given day. This fellow has, on another occasion, tagged along with some of my other co-worker friends and I for a coffee, uninvited. I didn’t think much of it, except that I couldn’t be bothered to spend my coffee breaks with him, so I kept ignoring his requests and appeared to be busy when he dropped by. Thursday morning, though, none of my usual coffee buddies were around and right before I got into the elevator to go to Peet’s alone, I decided to give him a call.

On our way over, he started his nosiness:

Old Co-Worker:
So, are you and Doug still an item?

Me:
No. It’s been a few months.

Old Co-Worker:
Really? How come?

Me:
Oh, it just didn’t work out.

Old Co-Worker:
Why? What happened?

I was incredulous. Did he really think I was going to tell him? I ignored his question and he started prying more into the previous office romances Doug had been involved in, while we waited our turn in line for the barista. He obviously hadn’t been on the office rumor mill but was dying to get on. Eventually, it was my turn to order.

Old Co-Worker:
I can understand why. You’re a very attractive woman.

Me:
(To Barista) Uh, yes, I’ll have a small Masala Chai Latte, please. (To Old Co-Worker) Thanks.

Old Co-Worker:
I have to fight myself all the time, when I see you.

(I almost dropped my change. The barista smiled. Do you want your receipt? I shook my head, no.)

Old Co-Worker:
But I’m married, you know.

Me:
Yes, I know. I’ve met your kids.

This was the… fifth such incident? Sixth? I forget. Of course, this is besides the other older, married co-worker who constantly suggests various sexy red dresses that he’s seen at stores, or in magazines (he brings me pictures), that he thinks I should go buy for the holiday party.

I should smile sweetly and ask him if he’ll pay for it.