I had never met her before. That was the first sign. I was minding my own business when she approached. That was the second sign. And when I was finally at her apartment and she asked me, at four in the morning, “How are you getting home?” I should have known, that when she had approached me, unprovoked, that I was only asking for trouble.
Confusing? Not really.
There’s a myth in America about sexual double standards. For example. If a man sleeps around, he’s just being a man. But if a woman sleeps around, she’s easy. The converse of this is true also. If a man sleeps around, he’s a manwhore. But if a woman sleeps around, she’s liberated, and has freedom of choice. It sounds ridiculous because it is ridiculous. Men and women can both be filthy and noble — sometimes within the same ten seconds — because they’re human. Equal opportunity skank.
The sexual double standard is in the eye of the beholder. And the phrase, “How are you getting home?” is no different. Yes, phrase. It is not a question. Why? It was a statement all along. Bear with me. After drinks at the first place, she suggested a place afterwards open much later. We went. When that place closed, she suggested drinks at her place. We went there also. When she asked, after some more drinks, how I was getting home, it became a moment of nostalgia — and truth. Nostalgia, because, as an ex-Mansy, I laughed to myself that in the old days I would not have seen what was going on. And truth, because the night was going to end like this all along. The double standard is that a man — a real man — would never send a woman off into the wee hours of the city, letting her figure out her way home. All cab companies have phone numbers. But a woman saying this to a man? Different story. Again; the eye of the beholder.
I was never concerned for my safety getting home. It was funny then and funny to me now. I joke often how I’m too old for the one-night stand. I am. And if something seems too good to be true, it is. But what young Mansy should take away from this story is that if she ever asks how you’re getting home, consider it a blessing that this double standard has absolute truth — that she isn’t worth your time.