Respect your elders, don't be trapped by them

Once upon a warm, star-lit fall evening, I ventured out to my local Dali exhibit at LACMA for a 'members only' event with food, music, mingling and art. The streets were crowded with cars as the thick rush hour traffic was detoured to side streets to make room for the hotel workers who were picketing demanding higher wages and better working conditions. As I drove, I recalled the last time I had attended a museum event and had met a very sweet man whom I dated for a bit before he decided that his life was too complicated for a relationship. Perhaps tonight I would meet another 'museum man' if the planets had aligned themselves properly.

Shortly upon entering, I scooped up several hors d'oeuvres from the food stations as I realized that I had not had dinner. The live music was lively and soulful and filled the outdoor space. As I reached for a brownie from the desert station, I heard a voice behind me ask if they had finished the raffle yet. What I saw before me was an outstretched hand with a raffle ticket that belonged to a, well, elderly man in a blue blazer and cream-colored hat. He reminded me of my grandfather with his gray hair and softly wrinkled skin.

"Yes, they just finished the first round of the raffle but they will have another round in about 30 minutes," I responded politely and to be honest, in a cadence a bit slower than usual to accommodate for any potential hearing problems.

"What are the prizes?" the kind, older gentleman asked.

"Um, I believe a tote bag and an umbrella," I smiled and took a step to the side attempting to excuse myself from the conversation.

Just as my left leg had reached behind me and my body was in mid rotation to move away, he extended his hand and introduced himself as "Dr. Mendez, first name Stewart."

I introduced myself and thought "Aw, how sweet he is looking for a grand-daughterly figure to talk to. He must need a little company." Far be it from me to leave a grandfather alone when he just wants a little conversation- it was like an adopt-a-granddaughter-program but informal and at a museum.

"That is a lovely necklace," he commented. "Do you know the difference between a compliment and harassment?" he asked.

Okay, this got weird all of a sudden. "Uh, yeah.... “I mumbled as he jumped in with his definition.

"If I say, 'that is a lovely necklace' that is a compliment. If I say, 'that is a lovely necklace on you' that is harassment. What is the big deal? Why can't we just have fun anymore?!"

Unsure of how to respond and having the urgent desire to relocate quickly I am sure I stared with a blank face.

"So," I stammered in an attempt to move on from the weird harassment scenario, "what kind of doctor are you?"

"Well," he began with a slight accent, " I am an anti-aging doctor I work to give people long, healthy lives."

Interesting.

"And," he continued, "I provide medicine for men for sexual wellness and longevity."

Okay, weird again. Was grandpa trying to let me know that he was younger than he appeared and viral at that? No, it couldn't be. That would be just too, well, weird and awkward.

"What do you like to do?" he asked.

"Well, I enjoy re-" I began. And before I could finish the word 'read', he had interrupted to talk about a case of his where man had needed help in the sex department of his relationship and how he had provided assistance.

At this moment, I realized that I felt stuck. This man had creeped me out and I was beyond ready to move on to something else that evening but was trapped. Had this man been my age and made me feel as uncomfortable as I did at that moment, I would have known exactly what to do. Interrupt with a "Nice to meet you'" and skedaddle along.

But my feet were glued to the cement and I couldn't make any excuse to move. I thought of the most ridiculous ways to remove myself. I debated grabbing onto the next arm that came by the desert bar to exclaim "Oh! There you are!" I contemplated how I might use Morris Code with my eyes to signal for help from passerbys. But why all these dramatic efforts simply to get out of unwanted attention from a man? It was very clear- it was a respect issue. How do you dis your grandfather? How do you reject a man that reminds you of the kind faces that read to you as a child and send you birthday cards with checks every year?

I was trapped out of a loyalty to my elders whom I have been taught to respect. Just then, I thought of a gentle way to excuse myself. I will let him know that I am going to go into the exhibit, that it was lovely hearing about all of his tantric yoga experiences, and about all the assistance he provides to men to reach their sexual peak.

At that exact moment he said, "Well, are you ready to view the exhibit?"

Yes! My way out! "Yeah, I was just thinking of going in."

And as I attempted to say goodbye, he said, "Good, I'll join you."

What! How did this backfire? As a woman who was usually quite confident and able to express what she wanted I felt absolutely confused as to how to end this.

As we walked to the door, I thought frantically of how on Oprah they always teach to you never change locations with the kidnapper. Now, I know it was not as dramatic as all this but I racked my brain of my next escape attempt- a text message to a girlfriend with instructions to call immediately.

While I plotted my perfect plan, the grandfatherly doctor opened the door and said, "You know, a friend of mine told me to join the museum because I would meet a wonderful woman."

I quickly reached for my phone as we moved toward the crowded exhibit. After several failed attempts at reaching the text keys because the unwanted companion stood so nearby I finally sent the SOS text and waited and made every effort to stand next to anyone but him.

A moment later, my salvation came in the form of a Mos Def ring tone and I said to the man, "Oh, I really must take this call outside." I noticed his look of confusion and felt halfway bad as I exited the exhibit. But not enough to stick around. He had used the 'old man' card to keep me there long enough.

I quickly moved through the crowd as I explained the situation to the best friend and made my way through the La Brea Tar pits taking the long way to the parking to avoid another run in. I felt so foolish and ridiculous running away from him but, bottom line, a creep is a creep whatever the age.

I escaped without incident and cursed myself for wishing to meet another 'museum man.' The stars had certainly aligned themselves, or misaligned depending on your perspective. And the next time a creep old man wants to chat, I will have no fear in brushing him off just as any man my age before I get to the point of desperation of running through the tar pits again.