If You Ignore Sexual Harassment, Is It Still Sexual Harassment?

Last night I had an interesting experience inside my favorite little ghetto gas station. I try not to throw the word ghetto around loosely, but in this case, it really fits. This is a gas station I have driven away from on more than one occasion because I was pretty sure they were being held up inside. Nonetheless, it’s close and the cashier is a nice guy who likes to talk sports with me. His cousin from Brooklyn on the other hand is a little much.

His cousin hasn’t been around since football season when we used to talk almost every other day about the comings and goings of the NFL. I thought he was a little crass to other people, but he never said anything weird to me, so I didn’t really care. Last night he may have crossed the line, but I ignored him, so it doesn’t really count, right?

The conversation went a little something like this:
Him: “Hey baby where you been, I haven’t seen you in months. I have been missing you so bad.”
Me: “I need a pack of parliament lights and ten dollars of gas.”
Him: “I know you were missing me.”
Me: “Did you guys see the home run show Bobby Abreu just put on at the home run derby?”
Him: “I wake up every night thinking about you.”
Me: “The guy hit 24 home runs in the first round alone--nobody has ever even passed 15 in that round.”
Him: “Sometimes when I wake up my sheets are so wet…”
Me: “You guys getting ready for the football season?”
Him: “I know you will be going out with me by the time football season rolls around.”
Me: “I am really looking forward to my fantasy draft this year. It seems like forever since the Super Bowl was played.”
Him: “You know you got me so hot right now.”
Me: “It was good to see you guys. Take care.”

Maybe it was sexual harassment, maybe it wasn’t. I was trying not to pay attention.