Boys or Pond Scum I've encountered, #15,

I’m taking a break from the regularly scheduled program to discuss Pond Scum. Yes, this one is capitalized. You usually come across Pond Scum infrequently, but when you do, it’s not forgotten.  Why?  Because it ruins the water.  Depending on the type of Scum, it might not show on the surface, but float around like green hunks of Grinch hair, waiting for you to dip your hand in and take a big drink.  Just when you raise your hand to your mouth, you see the water is contaminated.  Perhaps you’ve already taken a sip before you notice – then you are sick for a week.

You lady readers probably know I’m talking about the walking variety of Pond Scum.  Let me tell you the three types I’ve encountered.

1) The Treat You Like You’re an Object for His Pleasure Pond Scum: 

You’ve come across them -the old men whose tennis shorts are too short, the young men who hold you too close during a slow dance, your friend’s husband who hugs a little too long to say hello.  I remember a Mr. Muir who was always looking down my Mom’s shirt at church and flirting with her in the foyer.  They are a little difficult to spot sometimes. For instance, I remember once I walked down the street in Italy and a man passed me and said, “Nice breasts,” leered, and kept walking.  This has probably happened to you.  You look down at your chest.  Were they showing?  Was your shirt pulled down to low?  No.  You keep walking and think to yourself, “Wow.  That complete stranger thinks I have nice breasts.  Isn’t that sweet?”  You start to get a warm feeling like you are someone beautiful and unique – that a stranger picked you out of all the women walking and thought you were lovely.   That’s the lie the pond scum wants you to think.  All of the sudden you realize that you were almost taken in!!!!  “That jerk!  Maybe if he looked up once in a while he would see that women have faces and brains and feelings!” 

The lady I babysat had a brother that she was continually trying to set me up with.  “He’s wonderful!  He’s so funny!  He’s a returned missionary!”  Finally, I gave in.  We went to dinner and a movie.  He was big and burly with curly hair – kind of like a sheep crossed with an ox.   We sat in the driveway and talked.  He reached out and touched my shoulder.  That was nice.  He asked if we could talk somewhere else.  Maybe outside?  We got out and started to walk around the neighborhood.  There was an empty house.  They’ve got a grape vine growing in the backyard.  I took him there and we picked some and sat down on the grass.  It was very dark back there and it was close to midnight.  Suddenly he was on top of me kissing me.  I didn’t know what to do.  Should I kiss back or scream?  He stopped kissing me and rolled a little to the side.  I realize now that I didn’t even know what he was doing.  He pumped on my leg for about thirty seconds.  Now I know what he was doing.  He smiled and took my hand and lifted me up and walked me home.  He said, “Thank you.”  Pond scum.  When I babysat again the lady said her brother had a wonderful time.

2)  The I’m so Arrogant that I’m Deeming to Go out with You Once despite that your beneath me Pond Scum.

Perhaps you pass these types in the grocery store once in a while.  They are the middle age men who wear jeans, a sports jacket, and fake Italian shoes to the grocery store.  Sometimes they have funky modern glasses on or an expensive T-shirt under that sportjacket. They are pushing carts filled with fruits, vegetables, guinoa, and granola.  They want you to look at them when you pass.  If you happen to look up, they condescend to smile.  They think to themselves, “How could she not help to look at me?  Man, I look good today.  Poor overweight Mormon Mom.  I feel sorry for her.  I’m probably the best thing that she’s seen in awhile.”  This is what they acted like in their twenties:

He was the older brother of a high school friend.  He had black hair and moved like a cheetah.  He was smart and sophisticated.  I watched him in church every week wishing that he would notice me.  He never did.  Despite that fact, I asked him to a college sorority dance.  He accepted.  I went out and got my hair done.  I bought the coolest black dress from the 1940’s at an antique shop.  It had sequins on the shoulders and fit me like a tea cozy.  I was so happy to go with him.  The entire night he was sarcastic and tried to one-up everything I said.  If I asked him a question he was curt.  Why the King said "yes" to go out with a commoner, I’ll never know.

The next example of this type was a blond basketball player.   I bought tickets to the opera because he said that he would like to see one.   I thought that it would be a great surprise.  I made reservations at a restaurant nearby.  He called at the last minute to say something came up and he couldn’t make it to dinner, but he would meet me at the opera – just leave his ticket at will call in case he got there after it started.  I dressed up and went.  I waited by the door.  He didn’t come.  I went in and found my seat.  The opera started.  The first act went by.  I was worried.  Did he get in a car accident? The second act began and he quickly pushed his way down the aisle.  “I’m so sorry!” he said.  I’m a bit put off, but I figured something bad might have happened, and I forgive him.  He kept looking at his watch – over and over.   His face looked tormented.  He seemed to be in pain. Intermission began.  I turned to him and asked, “Why do you keep looking at your watch?  Is everything okay?”  He answered, “I was playing this church basketball game and we won, so we get to move on to the championship.  Its right now.”  I was stunned.  “That is the “something” that came up?  Why didn’t you tell me you had another commitment tonight?  I could have asked someone else to go with me.”  He didn’t answer.  I said, “Get out of here.”  He did.  The next day he brought flowers and a pirated copy of the music from Cinema Paradiso to my house.  He asked if we could go to the opera again.  I said “no.”

The third and last type is similar to the last one, but with a twist.  They are called The Narcissist Pond Scum. 

My Senior Year the Church Seminary had a “Computer Date.”  You paid ten dollars, filled out a list of questions and then you got matched up with a person from another high school.  Mine never called.  Everyone was going and kept asking me about my date.   Finally, the day before the dance I called him.  He said that he was just too busy to get around to calling me. He was a cheerleader, you know.  Yes, he would pick me up.  WOW!!!!! A cheerleader from East High!!!!!  How lucky could I get!!!!    The boy called me Michelle the entire night, even though I kept correcting him and saying, “My name is MELONIE!  M-E-L-O-N-I-E!  Melonie.” 

“What did you say, Michelle?  Did I already tell you about the when I cheered for a national contest?” 

In the middle of the dance, he left.  I couldn’t find him.  At the end of the dance, I asked my friend if she could take me home.  Suddenly, he appeared.  “Hey, Michelle.  I’ve been looking for you everywhere.  I guess its time to go home.”  He walked me to my door.  How kind of him.

“Goodnight, Michelle.”
“Its Melonie.”

“What?”

“Melonie.  That’s my name.”

“Right.  That computer did a great job matching us.  Ummm, do you want to go out again?”

I went in and shut the door.

POND SCUM.  Warn your daughters.