WHAT is it with these people??

I stopped at a rest stop on the way home from work last night. Dry throat--I wanted a diet Coke. I felt pretty that day, and I don't usually; I just liked the way my skirt fit, and my hair--I've learned how to blowdry it (something most women with hair of any length know how to do, but I, until last week, did not.) I walked from the car up the sidewalk, and looked up from my phone and some guy passed me and made eye contact and smiled and nodded. I smiled back; it's nice to be smiled at. At the door another guy--a black guy (pertinent for later discussion)--holds the door open for me, and as I'm passing him he whispers, "Sexy lady,"--sort of crooning it, drawing out the sounds. I smiled--I don't know why I smile, no matter what--and I kept walking into the store. He followed.

He stands behind me, waiting in line. Every 20 seconds he whispers, "Sexy lady..."--and it's become a threat, not a compliment. I'm so uncomfortable--aware of my shoulders and back and neck and ass--aware of every part of me that he can see, and every muscle back there tightens up until the simple movement of my body feels unnatural. I feel a strand of hair on my neck and I want it not to be there--that hair touching my neck in that very intimate spot on a woman's neck--the spot that we like caressed. I felt him there, in the connection between the hair and the neck. Looking at everything. Gone was that "I feel pretty today" feeling; I threw that cell phone to my ear and listened to voicemail messages, waiting, waiting for my turn--and I felt old and irritated and fat and utterly at odds with my body. And every 20 seconds, "Sexy lady. So sexy."

Do it one more time, fucker--that's what I was thinking--one more time and I turn around and say something loud to embarrass him. Something like, "You know, women don't like that behavior. It's creepy."

But he was suddenly silent. I paid for my drink, turned around, and there he was hanging out off to the side. And as I move toward the door, he moves toward the door. So I turn and go back to the other end of the store--make a very careful assessment of the straw container, picking the one straw that will work the very best with this particular diet Coke. And when I turn to look toward the door again, I don't see him. So I head out--only to see him lurking there in the entryway. There is no other door. I walk out, he opens the door for me, and says, "Sweet, sexy lady." And I said nothing, though by then I've got the flight reaction like you wouldn't believe. He watches me walk to my car. He watches me drive away.

WHAT IS IT with some men?? Do women anywhere actually respond well to that kind of stuff? Are these men getting positive reactions to this behavior that would sustain it over the years? Is it--the pertinent bit--a cultural thing? Do black women like that shit? Any black women? Or do the black men only pull it on white women because white women are, generally speaking (because this entire note is about generalization, right?), more inhibited about making a scene?

I ask because every time this has happened to me, it's been a black guy. Well-dressed black guy in a Volvo. Drug dealer black guy on my stoop in Baltimore. Truck driver black guy at the rest stop. Mailroom black guy at an old job. Have these men gotten the chick by tossing these kinds of comments in that hissy whisper--that creepy pervert talk? White guys--I've seen creepiness there, too, but it's a different variety.

I could kick myself for reacting the way I did. I let him control the entire thing--and you'd think it's not that big a deal--it was 10 minutes of hassle. But my peace is my own, and my energy, and I felt so pretty that day--I never feel pretty--and I let him blow it all up.

Makes a person wonder...