Creepy old men

I note, somewhat wearily, that creepy old men are back in the news, being creepy. Creepy old men, and their apologists and enablers, who argue that their creepiness is somehow the natural order of things.

Old men would have you believe that it is difficult to not be a creepy old man. That it is a task of epic proportions.

It is not that difficult. It is a matter of intention.

As yet more of the grimness of Epstein unfolds, creepy old men are, sadly, a flaccid topic once again. Whether it be pursuing students thirty years their junior, or simply not asking too many questions about the background of the probably legal young woman who you've just been introduced to by your good pal Jeff.

To be clear, I am not referring to criminal creepy old men, the ones who actually committed statutory rape, the ones who fucked trafficked hirls. That is not something which is allowed to get away merely with the contempt of the observer.  That deserves prison. 

No , I'm referring to the hinterland of that particular stain on the conscience of humanity, the borderline cases, the "well, technically she's legal but come on man". I am referring to abuses of power and position and, more simply, taking advantage of being older and knowing a thing or two.

I can speak with some authority here because I am a middle aged man. I am, moreover, a middle aged man in a position of authority. To top it off, I am a middle aged man who, given the nature of his industry, is in a position of authority over a staff where there is an over-representation of young women.

Front of house staff tend to be attractive and personable, it goes with the turf. You're not going to last long on a restaurant floor without the ability to be pleasant, make conversation, generally be a nice presence to be around. It's also often a gateway job, a first job. No qualifications are required so you do tend to get a lot if 16 and 17 year olds.

And so here I am, surrounded by all these young women on the daily, and yet, miraculously I, a middle aged man, manage to get through each day without attempting to commit a sexual assault, finish my shift, and go home to my age-appropriate wife, whom I love very much.

I don't tell hem how pretty or special they are. I don't give them any special treatment. I don't stand just a bit too close when explaining something, or make an excuse to touch an arm or a shoulder. I don't flirt.

I don't do these this because it would be inappropriate with a woman my own age. It is unconscionable with one who is thirty years younger than me. This is a choice you can make. I am not subject to my baser nature.

To be clear, I haven't always been a paragon of virtue. When #MeToo broke, I examined my conscience and my behaviour. I know for a fact I never crossed any lines in terms of touching or making advances, but I've worked in kitchens for a long time, and they aren't exactly bastions of respectful behaviour. I am bound to have said inappropriate things at some point. I resolved to be better.

But! But! The defenders of creepy old men will cry. Do you not see? Have you not eyes? How can this be?

I'm here to tell you lads, that it is entirely possible to work with a crew consisting largely of pretty young women, and not be a pervert. I have eyes, I can see. I can acknowledge that a pretty girl is a pretty girl, the point is I don't make a point of telling her. Not staring is a choice, lads. Even in the summer.

It's remarkable how helpless all these powerful men seem to be, how prey they are to their emotions, or at least that's what they plead. Can you blame me? I'm just a man, look at her.

With remarkable timing, the anonymous confession site Fesshole recently carried one from a man who works in an office with a lot of women who are all much younger than him. Lots of friendly hugs and giggles, still got it, he thinks to himself.

And then, crushingly, one of them refers to him as their "work Dad". 

I say crushingly, but there's no reason for that to be the case. The confessor is self-aware enough to realise that he was being delusional, and well done to him for that, hopefully this is the start of a period of growth for him. But he still thought that in the first place, and you have to ask why.

Why do men of my vintage still think they're in with a shout with lissom young things? Why on Earth would they want to be?

I have been referred to as a Work Dad, I am perfectly okay with it, as most of my female staff are young enough to be my daughter (again, this is not hiring policy, it's just what happens). It is one of my devoutest wishes that blokes the world over would learn to be okay with it, too.

Not just for reasons of propriety and Not Being Creepy, but also because they're ace, and putting them in a box marked "looks" is reductive, foolish and self-defeating . I am lucky enough to work with a lot of intelligent, interesting, sparky young women, all of whom will go on to bigger and better things, and the last thing I want to end up as is an anecdote about the grim bloke they used to work for.

So men, you have a choice. It is always a choice. You can be a cautionary tale, a joke, a cliche, or you could, simply...not.