Old pervs

The old perv

old pervsI have a friend. Or perhaps I should say an old friend. He is both older and someone from the past.

In an attempt at transparency I must add at this point that he was a crush. I liked him, he had a girlfriend, I accepted this and moved on to quasi fiancé no 2 (don’t ask. There was never a ring). Years later however he seems to miss the attention he received during those crush years. He misses the eagerness in my voice when he called perhaps or the adoring puppy dog eyes I’m sure I used to make. I really don’t know as the workings of the male mind baffle me. But all I know is that he feels a sort of entitlement that he has never been granted.

It started rather innocuously with the hand on the knee. Paternal, avuncular pats that one accepts as non sexual. But when the person patting is also asking you if you are getting any from any of your young studs it changes the tone.  The double entendres are never far away as well as the bum grazes. We both know that he’s not spatially challenged and yet he seems unable to control his hand to eye coordination so as to avoid touching me. I don’t create a fuss as to do so would be to engage in a futile conversation with him claiming that it was accidental and me knowing that it isn’t. What’s the point?

Once however I had had enough and I kicked him. Hard. Those football days came in handy. Now he talks about the time I assaulted him with glee. He saw it as a childish act of rebellion. A reaction to his perv-like advances. I saw it as a need to keep him away from my body. Maybe I’m saving my body for a museum somewhere on born again virgins.

And thus it is with regret that I no longer pick up when he calls. I ignore text messages and avoid obvious Old pervert hangouts. I shouldn’t have to explain to a grown arse man why he can’t touch me. He knows better. If your girlfriend was standing here would your hand be stroking my waist? I didn’t think so.

These men are everywhere. The DJ that suddenly needs to sort out the wiring behind your seat (cue graze), the guy at the party who hasn’t said a word but is constantly starring at your breasts or standing closely behind you or the friend that goes in for that hug a little too long (cue him moaning). It’s not right. What is wrong with these people that they don’t just get their rocks off elsewhere.

My precious, we have to say something and not allow these perverts to pose as friends when really they are waiting for an opportunity to pounce.

Rant over. Let me go and enjoy the sunshine, in my shorts . I’m sure it will be fine… Right?

© Chelsea Black


  1. Wait…how is the exact same thing happening to me…at one point it was married men, now its old men…goodness me and I’ve had to be hard core..those mother-skunkers are just persistent like mould….trying to suck the juice of my youth when I’m not even trying to suck their shriveled old_____ …

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.