Since last Thursday, I have been stuck on this story and how I mishandled its events:
I went to dinner with a friend at one of my favorite New Haven restaurants. It’s a café where I feel especially comfortable – where I buy bread, coffee, meals with friends, and even books. We sat at a table in the center of the brightly lit restaurant and began chatting. Half way through dinner, however, I looked up, and saw a man with his body twisted toward me. He was wearing black track pants. They were missing their crotch; he was entirely exposed. The man was looking down, scribbling on a notepad. In shock, I babbled something indescernable and motioned to my friend to look behind her. “Oh my god. What do we do?” she asked. I was giggling – mostly out of shock and discomfort, but partly because the whole thing seemed so unreal and absurd. He hadn’t yet looked up at me, and I naively assumed he must have been unaware that he was flashing us. My friend and I whispered about telling someone, but then the man closed his legs, and I decided we should just ignore that it happened. I felt bad for him – maybe there was something wrong. He seemed a little out of it, and I felt bad making him leave. I said I could ignore it. Ten minutes later, it happened again. The man opened his legs in my direction. Nobody else in the now almost empty restaurant could see him. This time, he shot his eyes up in my direction. My friend, asked my again: “aren’t you going to say something?” I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. I panicked. “I’ll do it,” she said, getting up and walking to the register. I watched from my seat. The man immediately looked up at me again and then watched her talk to the people at the counter. He sprang up and began to pack his belongings in the black trash bag across the table. My friend began to walk back to me and he moved in our direction. There was an odd, uncomfortable moment where I was genuinely scared that he would do something to me or my friend. She felt the same, darting to the other side of the café. But, the man left and we sat reflecting on what just happened. We began laughing again, unable to fully process the events that just unfolded. Eventually, we got up, selected our “apology deserts” and walked home in opposite directions. I got back to my apartment, had some of my chocolate cookie, and thought about what just happened. The image of that man ran over and over again in my mind. I started to get angry – I wanted it to go away. And then I thought about how I had done nothing to help me or my friend, got even angrier. I had just sat there, staring back at that man. How could I have done nothing? And how could I have been so naïve to believe he really didn’t know that he was exposing himself to two young women? I ended up calling Yale Police that night and reporting the incident, just in case it could prevent his flashing someone else. Since then, I have thought I saw the man twice. Both times, I darted across the street and into a store. I wish I had said something or done something, but I also know that it is not out of the ordinary to walk away from an incident like that feeling helpless. Maybe that’s part of what the man got out of exposing himself. I know I can’t be too tough on myself, but I also think it’s an important lesson going forward that there are some moments when you can’t just do the polite or passive thing. I hope if I am ever faced with a similar scenario I will take the necessary measures to protect myself and the people that I care about.