As I finish up my water, I stand and knock on the counter once to get Momodi's attention. I leave behind a mere ten-thousand gil – enough for a drink of water and enough to let Momodi use the overpay to help keep things afloat on her end. She uses the extra gil I leave behind to pay off the tabs of people that I have selected; charity of sorts. Its surprising how many people stay at Momodi's establishment with no real way of paying her back.
While I am standing I take the time to tighten my bowtie and put my glasses back on to protect from the harsh light of the Thanalan sun and also because I feel their red lenses match my rose-pink colored suit so well. With that I turn to leave, my shoes clicking against the floor, or so they would if I had the chance to walk far.
“What kind of a man walks around Ul'Dah in a pink suit?†the nameless young Miqo male asks me. He is and small and wiry like all of his kind, easily sitting at 60 ponz less than me in mass and 6 ilms shorter at the minimum. He's sitting at the bar, head turned up to me as I tower over him, grinning and intentionally showing those teeth of his as if a man like me should feel threatened or intimated by him. I'm partially deaf but I'm not stupid, he is taunting me and wondering how I am going to handle him.
This isn't the first time I've been asked such a question and its not the last. It almost surprises me how many 'men' make it a point to try and challenge or insult my sense of style; as if they will ever posses the authority or wherewithal to speak to me over fashion and what I should wear. I regard him and his inquiry for the briefest of moments, pulling my bright red cotton gloves tight on my hand and simply turn my back to him and begin to walk away. I try to anyways but this cocksure half-man is unreasonably persistent and reaches a hand out to grab me by the arm to stop me from walking away. Its a dangerous thing for anyone to do, putting their hands on me – especially little boys like this Miqo who are half my size and none of my fury.
Admittedly I respond to his becoming physical with me poorly. I don't actually say anything at first, I just look down to him from over my shoulder, teeth gnashed and exhaling heavily through my nostrils as I contemplate how I should deal with him. I make the deeply generous choice of ignoring his transgressions as I try to pull my arm away from him, saying “Excuse me†in a flat tone and try to pull my arm out of his grasp to continue about my day. I'm not about to let boy-sized Miqo derail me from my plans to go shopping and pay personal visits to my businesses. However this one is determined to disturb my routine and doubles-down, tightening his grip on my arm and jerking it back.
Its hard to express how fucking furious this makes me. A child-sized and child-like Miqo putting their hands all over me, insulting my attire, and then having the audacity to not let go as I politely try and excuse myself. No one puts their hands on me, ever. If Ridley were here she would be beating this boy like a drum over all of this. Alas I am alone here and it falls to me to teach this young man the necessities of rendering proper customs and courtesies in this world, especially to men like me.
[To be continued...]
While I am standing I take the time to tighten my bowtie and put my glasses back on to protect from the harsh light of the Thanalan sun and also because I feel their red lenses match my rose-pink colored suit so well. With that I turn to leave, my shoes clicking against the floor, or so they would if I had the chance to walk far.
“What kind of a man walks around Ul'Dah in a pink suit?†the nameless young Miqo male asks me. He is and small and wiry like all of his kind, easily sitting at 60 ponz less than me in mass and 6 ilms shorter at the minimum. He's sitting at the bar, head turned up to me as I tower over him, grinning and intentionally showing those teeth of his as if a man like me should feel threatened or intimated by him. I'm partially deaf but I'm not stupid, he is taunting me and wondering how I am going to handle him.
This isn't the first time I've been asked such a question and its not the last. It almost surprises me how many 'men' make it a point to try and challenge or insult my sense of style; as if they will ever posses the authority or wherewithal to speak to me over fashion and what I should wear. I regard him and his inquiry for the briefest of moments, pulling my bright red cotton gloves tight on my hand and simply turn my back to him and begin to walk away. I try to anyways but this cocksure half-man is unreasonably persistent and reaches a hand out to grab me by the arm to stop me from walking away. Its a dangerous thing for anyone to do, putting their hands on me – especially little boys like this Miqo who are half my size and none of my fury.
Admittedly I respond to his becoming physical with me poorly. I don't actually say anything at first, I just look down to him from over my shoulder, teeth gnashed and exhaling heavily through my nostrils as I contemplate how I should deal with him. I make the deeply generous choice of ignoring his transgressions as I try to pull my arm away from him, saying “Excuse me†in a flat tone and try to pull my arm out of his grasp to continue about my day. I'm not about to let boy-sized Miqo derail me from my plans to go shopping and pay personal visits to my businesses. However this one is determined to disturb my routine and doubles-down, tightening his grip on my arm and jerking it back.
Its hard to express how fucking furious this makes me. A child-sized and child-like Miqo putting their hands all over me, insulting my attire, and then having the audacity to not let go as I politely try and excuse myself. No one puts their hands on me, ever. If Ridley were here she would be beating this boy like a drum over all of this. Alas I am alone here and it falls to me to teach this young man the necessities of rendering proper customs and courtesies in this world, especially to men like me.
[To be continued...]
