A guy just parked his car outside my window

It’s a big chunky car, black. Forgive me for not knowing the brand. It looks like one of the range rovers. I bet it’s pretty expensive. I couldn’t see who was sitting in the driver’s seat, but from my window I saw an old man. He reminded me of someone I knew a couple years ago.

The driver got out. Immediately my prejudices kicked in. It was a white guy with a fake looking tan and long greyish hair. The wavy, styled kind. And one of those jackets that screams expensive corner office. He looked very good for a man his age, very well groomed and tailored.

I was looking at him as he got out of the car, a scowl probably already on my face. He smiled at me sweetly, openly. It reached his eyes. It took me three whole seconds to decide whether I’d smile back or let my judgement take over. I hated the look of him, I honestly couldn’t imagine him being a decent guy. I imagined him getting what he wanted from everyone his whole life and facing no consequences for any of his horrible actions. 

Nevertheless, I decided to smile. 

He offered to help his father (presumably) out of the car but the dad jokingly told him off. I didn’t hear them, but it looked like: “Not today, son. I’m not that old just yet.”

Then the son waited as the dad (I’m running with the presumption) zipped up his coat. It was raining a bit, so corner office guy put on his dad’s hood for him. That earned him an incredulous look and a scowl. Dad jerked his hood off, shooed him away and patted his hair. When he was convinced his hairdo was still intact, they walked away together and I started writing this piece. Corner office guy smiled.

This man embodied for me everything I think is wrong with our society - at least from the outside. The patriarchy has benefitted him immensely, pimp car, fancy suit. Probably a director somewhere in an office. He’s heard his whole life that he’s a catch, that’s why he grows out his thinning grey hair. 

His features are that of a typical ‘handsome’ white guy. He’s perfected being charming and walking the line between just appropriate and harassment. Never being taught how to empathize with others, never had to face consequences for his actions. Because the women he came in contact with have been molded into beings who hold their tongue to get the same chances in life he got. 

He felt comfortable and at ease in every aspect in his life, right up until the me-too-movement. When he became scared to say the wrong thing for the first time in his life. 

‘You can’t say anything anymore these days, people are so sensitive. I’m scared to be falsely accused. That’s a real fear for men.’ He’s one of those. Because he always could say anything and people would just take it. And now he’s scared of being accused, because deep down he knows there is solid ground for people to do so.

I can imagine it being a real shellshock if you’ve never been held accountable. For anything. And thus all the more necessary. 

He has a wife, of course. But never spoke to her about anything that has to do with the female experience or the fear. Even after me-too. She too feels the movement has gone too far and is scared for her husband to be accused. Because she too knows multiple much younger women probably could.

He has been promoted over and over again in his career. Married white men are responsible for most of the gender pay-gap after all. That has probably nothing to do with the fact they’re married and a woman is doing a hell of a lot of unpaid labour and providing a stable home for him to be able to thrive in his career. He cares about the environment of course, but only in the most superficial way. Only when it’s easy and benefits him. He’ll never give up any capitalistic perks. But if he happens to make a greener choice, be sure to hear about it. 

That’s what I see when I see a guy like that. Middle-aged, black jacket, fancy shoes - and maybe colourful socks. Thé sign that he isn’t just a boring middle-aged man and that he’s actually a very spontaneous, fun person. 

It might be prejudice, I might be spot-on. 

Did I do the right thing by smiling back? Shouldn’t I make it very clear that his very appearance is giving me alarm bells like the city is on fire? Maybe I should’ve made a point from behind the window. 

But maybe I did do the right thing. Maybe for all his faults and all his flaws he is nothing like I’ve imagined him. And this style is just a new form of the name ‘Karen’.

I may be angry at the people who do the things I’ve described (and there are many), but I’m not bitter. And I’m not mean. 

So, when a stranger smiles at me, I smile back. Actively deciding to use the empathy that was drilled into me, to forgive all men’s faults against me and to never feel enough, for something I choose to be.

Kind to myself and strangers.