The social evolution of acceptable behaviour never ceases to amaze me.
Today, sitting on the train, minding my own business, catching up on emails I looked up and caught the gaze of the chap opposite me. It was only a momentary glance, but on first opinion it was a glance worth having. Well groomed, tanned face, nice clothes, good hair; were I not been a happily married lady I may well have purred in approval…
Then I suddenly tore my eyes away and a loud “tut” escaped from my throat rather than the moan that was threatening to shame me.
Whilst looking me in the eye, this dashing chap developed an itch, an itch that caused him some clear discomfort. Thus to alleviate his pain I unwillingly witnessed him take his right hand and use it to pull at the waistband of his shorts, then his left hand went down into the freshly created gap between flesh and fabric. A short fumble later where his willy wobblers were popped back into place out slid his hand, the waistband snapped back into place and he looked all nice and comfy again. Shortly after he exited the train using his left hand to press the button to open the doors…
Its wasn’t pleasant to watch; and in my opinion not good train etiquette.
When getting a tickle in my upper thigh I don’t take my hand and have a merry scratch near my “little flower”. I don’t even like scratching my nose in public in case people think I am trying to remove anything that resides inside my nostrils.
But no etiquette police came dashing through the carriage to arrest my fiddling fellow and no one else seemed to echo my “tutting” reaction.
Am I becoming a prude?