Boo

Les gens qui ne rient jamais ne sont pas des gens sérieux

Be who you are and say what you mean, those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

I really didn't need to see that

I had an incredibly disturbing experience this afternoon: I don’t think I’ve seen a flasher before. I remember one time when I was about twelve, there being rumours about one in a park near my school, and I did walk past a man in London once who was crouched near a bush and seemed to be injecting something into his penis, but generally I have escaped seeing naked parts of the male anatomy flailing about in public.

This afternoon I was returning home from a comforting coffee and browse at the British Council library. I was trudging through the slush, my hood down over my eyes, concentrating on finding the drier pieces of pavement and not slipping. As I approached my tram stop, I shook off my hood to see the stationary tram’s number, and when I’d seen it wasn’t one for me my eyes skimmed along the carriage. In the last carriage of the tram, right at the back, just before looking into the distance for the next tram, my eyes snagged on the figure of a man. Something wasn’t quite right, but I didn’t realise exactly what until I glanced back. I wish I hadn’t.

A man, in his late fifties or early sixties, bushy moustache and woolly hat, had his pants down and was totally exposed. He wasn’t just flashing it either; he was playing with it. My initial reaction was to laugh, but it wasn’t funny. The few people waiting at the stop either hadn’t seen or were studiously ignoring his challenging stare. For a split second his eyes met mine. I turned away abruptly and concentrated on the tram tracks running off into the distance, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing any effect of what he was doing.

The tram pulled away and from the corner of my eye I saw him calmly tucking himself away and turning back towards the inside of the carriage. I felt a bit sick, but mainly puzzled. Why would you do it? Is it just extreme attention seeking, or an illness? I also wondered about him. As far as I remember from my brief glance, he looked reasonably respectable from the waist up; a normal Polish older man. Is that kind of behaviour a choice or something he can’t stop himself from doing? Does he have a ‘normal’ life with job and family, or is indecently exposing himself just one of a variety of abnormal behaviours he indulges in?

I wish it hadn’t had such an impact on me, after all I guess that’s what he was aiming for, but certain things I can definitely do without seeing.

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3 Comments:

Anonymous keji said...

ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.....that is the 2nd flasher story I have heard today....weird.

11:53 pm  
Blogger Monef said...

gross!! sorry you had to see that!

8:29 pm  
Blogger beatroot said...

I don't know who tofeel more sorry for, you or the flasher. Getting your dick out in public and playing with when it is minus 5 degrees is not a good idea. Doesn't he worry about frostbite?

But it is amazing how many women I have met in Poland who have seen a flasher. There is obviously a Polish epidemic of Freddy the Flashers...

2:00 pm  

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