Some people have said that when women get to be “a certain age” they become invisible. However, I didn’t think they meant that I would literally disappear.
I had just finished taking my aqua jogging class at the local YMCA last Monday evening. Afterward, several of our class members, including the instructor, hit the hot tub. This tub is about as big as the average mall parking space, so it can seat quite a number of people comfortably. And since it was “prime time” at the Y, quite a number of people were sitting comfortably. It wasn’t packed to the gills, I mean, it could fit a good number of other tubbers before it reached some kind of health code limit, whatever that might be.
We were happily enjoying the heat and chattering on when a few more people came in. These were members of a local institution that houses developmentally disabled adults. A few days a week, they are brought by so they can swim or participate in other activities.
It might bother some people, but not me.
So a few of the guys lumbered down the hot tub stairs. There was plenty of room for them to take a seat along the benches. But one of them came over to my side of the tub and sat on me. Not just brushed up or bumped against my leg, or even slightly overlapped the outside of my thigh. But he literally sat right on top of me. And he had no awareness that I was not a bench but an actual human being. I know he can’t help it, but still. A man came into the hot tub and sat down right on top of me. I’m sure this happens to some people all the time, but not to me. I’m just not used to being furniture.
I sort of slithered out from under him and said, “Excuse me,” but his face registered nothing. After a minute or so, I left, and the women from my class followed right behind me. We exited like wet ducklings all in a row, walking down the corridor that leads to the women’s locker room. I knew that the woman closest to me had some experience with this population, so I said to her, “that guy sat on me.” She nodded, and said that she knew, and thought it best that we discreetly left before anything else happened.
When we all reach the door to the locker room, I told them about my experience as an inanimate object. The instructor turned to me with a big smile. “He gave you a lap dance!” she said. “Did you give him a tip?”
“Darn,” I said. “I left all my singles in my other bathing suit.”