There’s one in every family. There are two in mine.
The first one is a 70-year old pervert. He’s my uncle on my Dad’s side of the family and has always had the ugly habit of addressing small (male) kids as, “Hi Miss!” and “How are you, Miss?”
If that isn’t uncomfortable enough, he still follows the ritual. I ran into him at a cousin’s wedding recently, and even though I’m taller and bigger than him, he smiled at me through his dilapidated yellow teeth and said, “Hello, Miss!”
I cringed and moved away, oblivious to his hurt sentiment. A minute later, I heard him say the exact same thing to my brother, who is taller and bigger than me. I caught my brother’s eye and we both ignored the old pervert and moved away.
This pervert family member has kids of his own, who are both grown men and I feel sorry for the fact that they have to endure this kind of sexually explicit torture each day. I won’t be surprised if those two kids grew up feeling very confused abut their sexuality. I think it borders on sexual harassment.
The second pervert in my family is another 70-year uncle on my Mom’s side, who just can’t stop from touching himself in ‘special’ places in front of everyone. I had the misfortune of running into him as well during the wedding, and while he shook my hand, he twirled his other hand inside his white lungi. I rushed to the restroom and washed my hands with soap vigorously. Who knows where that hand of his has been.
As I stepped out of the restroom, my brother ran past me and starting washing his hand.