When I hear “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” these days all I can think of is Namibian men. That duet perfectly captures what it’s like to try to fend off a Namibian man’s advances.
One day I was exiting my yard when a stranger–a man–passed by. I’m not used to strangers in our village, first of all, and although it’s not very Christlike of me, I have to admit: I don’t like strangers. This guy was already holding out his hand to shake mine and I didn’t want to–but I feel that refusing to shake someone’s hand is as bad as slapping them in the face. So after delaying for a bit by fiddling with my gate closure, I shook his hand. And so it began.
“Could I have your phone number?”
“No,” I said, walking away.
“Why not? I’m a bit interested,” he said to my backside.
In my head I thought, Gee, only a bit? I’m offended!
I hated that he knew which house was mine and could even be waiting there for me upon my return. I made up an excuse to have a learner walk me home from school that day.
As a general rule of thumb, a “no” is only an invitation to persist. I’ve had guys from the census bureau, who got hold of my phone number, send me pleading text messages about how they’re interested in me and want to talk to me–then follow it up with numerous phone calls. It got to the point where anytime I answered my phone and it turned out to be my brother Jon or something, I’d heave a big sigh of relief: “Good, you’re not a stalker.”
So, this Christmas season, I have new respect for the poor girl who tries to escape the guy’s clutches in that beloved old Christmas song. It’s not so romantic to me anymore.
But one last note–I want to state for the record that the male teachers at my school have never, not once, made me feel uncomfortable with any advances. They have shown the utmost courtesy and have treated me like a friend–nothing more. Did my principal scare them all into silence before I arrived? Or are they just good people?
I like my colleagues a lot.
