The psychology of harassed men

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

Feeling lost and helpless. I woke up this morning still feeling down.

Here's what happened: Yesterday afternoon, after work, I took the No. 10 bus home,
listening to a local version of Tom and Jerry and the "A Cup of Water" music video along the way, until I arrived in Guye. Since I had a
day , my mood was pretty good. But what I didn't expect was that from
the moment I stepped onto the familiar No. 21 bus, a nightmare began. I cried!

When I boarded, the No. 21 bus was waiting to depart at the Guye stop. There were already quite a few people on the bus, but it wasn't too crowded.
After boarding, I found a relatively spacious spot to stand, my left hand in my pocket and my right hand holding onto the handrail, blankly watching
the pedestrians coming and going at the station, pondering some random questions. Then, as departure approached, more and more people boarded,
and it gradually became a bit crowded. Suddenly, I felt something was wrong; I felt
something soft gently brushing against my left arm. I didn't turn around, just moved forward a little. There was
a young
girl in front of me listening to music with headphones on, and I couldn't get too close to her to avoid misunderstandings. So my movement was limited, but enough for that soft, unidentified object behind me to touch my arm. I continued
thinking, but that soft, unidentified object leaned against my left arm again. So I dodged, it leaned again,
I dodged, it leaned again, I dodged, it leaned again.

A little impatient, I turned around and saw that it was a young girl, about 163cm tall,
around , with a rather plump figure, standing behind me, her chest resting on my arm. She
didn't move away when she saw me, just cleared her throat. To be honest, I didn't think much of it at the time, so I dodged again
. Then the bus started moving, and with the swaying of the bus, she leaned against me again. I thought maybe it was because of the people behind her pushing her,
or maybe she didn't mean anything by it. Suddenly, I felt something strange on my buttocks, like something
was moving up and down on them. At first, I thought it was the girl's backpack behind me, so I turned around again.
But I noticed her bag was positioned so far away from touching my buttocks that it was impossible for it to touch them. When I turned around, she cleared her throat again.

At that moment, I started to tense up. Had I encountered a thief? But I
only had a key pouch in my back pocket; she didn't have anything to steal. Besides, the thing moving around my buttocks was always
on the side without the key pouch. I thought it might not be a thief; maybe it was just too crowded.
The girl behind me also had a monthly pass when the ticket was checked earlier. I wondered if a thief would use a monthly pass to ride the train. So I tried to move away again, but by then
I had nowhere to hide, because I was already very close to the girl in front of me, and she even gave
me a disapproving look. Just as I was feeling awkward, she leaned in from behind again, this time moving both her upper and lower body simultaneously. Now I
only knew that what was brushing against my arm was her breast, but I had no idea what was below.

My buttock muscles tensed without me realizing it, and I felt a strange, inexplicable tension. I
looked and saw the girl behind me with her right arm hanging down behind my left side. I figured her right hand was right next to my buttocks.
When she saw me turn around, she cleared her throat, so I didn't dare look down to see what was on my buttocks. I
could only try to lean forward a little more. By then, the girl in front of me had stopped listening to music. She took off her headphones and glared at me
as if she wanted to say something. I awkwardly lowered my head.

While I was still lost in thought, she leaned in from both sides again. So
I nudged her back a little, meaning, "Don't push me." But I didn't expect this to cause trouble. She moved more vigorously behind me,
and I could clearly feel her hand moving on my buttocks because I could feel the heat. Even
so, I still didn't dare to think of it as harassment, because I thought only women were harassed on buses.
But I felt the hand on my buttocks getting restless. It not only moved up and down, but also left and right, with
increasing force, and even lingered for a moment on my buttocks.

At that moment, even though I didn't want to think about it, I had to consider that possibility. I was thinking of a solution: should I grab her hand
and yell at her, or just glare at her? I figured if I yelled at her,
no one on the bus would believe she touched me; they'd just think I was crazy. So I glared at her, and the funny thing
was, she cleared her throat again. I still don't understand what she meant by clearing her throat.

After I glared at her, she didn't stop; she continued her actions, and the movements of her chest
became more pronounced. At that moment, I... I really didn't know what to do. There was nowhere to hide. I even thought about
stomping on her foot, but I'm a man, and if I stomped on her and she screamed, wouldn't that be even more embarrassing? I
felt like I had nowhere to vent my anger. My brain was racing. I even thought about turning around and giving her a "Regretful Dragon" kick,
followed by a "Flying Dragon in the Sky" kick, and then a "Shadowless Kick from Foshan." But honestly, I didn't have the courage, because I'm
a man. Then I remembered that song, "Even when a man's tears have dried up, there's still despair, even the way they fall
seems so weary."

As I thought this, she behind me intensified her actions. I was almost speechless. I nudged
her again, and she cleared her throat. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. Just as I mustered the courage to turn around and slap
her , the bus stopped at a station.

As I turned around, she quickly turned and got off, saying, "Oh my god!"

I wanted to say, "Oh my god! Where is justice? Why is it so hard to be a man?"

I rode two more stops and got off to go home. The first thing I did when I got home was let my wife touch my butt.
After , I was depressed. Oh my god, it felt just like on the bus—I was sexually harassed.

I hereby solemnly declare: Everything described above is not a joke. I guarantee with my integrity that everything I have said
is true, without any exaggeration. I am willing to bear legal responsibility for this.

I wrote this simply to discuss with my fellow men: what should
we ?

[End]

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