Eavesdropping on a conversation, a fairly tense conversation, on my FB feed, got me thinking.

The point of contention was an article written to highlight the undeniable truth that women, particularly young women face issues that men, of any age, fail to see as problems. Among them, the writer, with justifiable anger and anguish, referred to the issue of adult men “...hitting on 15 year old check-out girls.”

A respondent (male), while agreeing to the general tenor of the article, took exception (mild) to what he termed ageism as a counter to sexism. Ignoring, perhaps subsuming, the implications of paedophilia in his, to quote Bob Seeger, “...what to leave in, what to leave (I’ve always thought that ought to be ‘take’) out”, critique, the respondent ran into the buzz-saw of a co-respondent. It needs to be noted that the respondent is a gentleman of my acquaintance and is, to my certain knowledge, a man of impeccable ethics and responsibility, at least insofar as Lolita-esque issues are concerned. She, the co-respondent, was, and quite vehemently so, unwilling to allow to the issue of 15 year old girls being H. Humbert-ed to be minimized. The episode ended – Buzz-Saw – 1; Respondent; 0 with Respondent retiring from the field with grace (a degree of).

Which, as mentioned, got me to thinking; as a father (daughter) and grandfather (grand-daughter) I examined my own behavior towards the various check-out girls I have encountered through my consumerist life. I got to wondering if my service-worker friendliness could be misinterpreted. I must admit that it could be, and for that I apologize, retrospectively and prospectively, no offense and/or aggression intended. Rather, the ‘flirting’, if one wants to call it that is predicated on appreciation rather than acquisition. I am sorry that you, young server, have had to live a life in which friendliness is viewed as sexual aggression. If I could I’d change that. Not all references to your mien and demeanour are with the intention of denuding you. Sometimes, you remind me of my daughter at your age and that which you are interpreting as a come-on is no more than a pleased appreciation of your entry into the adult world.

None of this is to say that creepy old men aren’t trying to get into 15 year old pants. Just to point out that that is not all of us. Some, most, of us are just enjoying, without touching, the Spring.