Strangers on a Train

A letter to the man who propositioned me by post-it note, on a train from Edinburgh.

Dear Neil*,

I don’t know if you remember me but I’m the woman you gave your number to on the train from Edinburgh to Plymouth a few weeks ago. You got off at Birmingham and, as you left the train, you brushed my shoulder with your hand (by accident? I’d love to think so. Being seductive? In your head only, Neil) and pressed a post-it note into my hand, saying as you did so: “You dropped this”.

What went through my mind was this — I hadn’t walked down the end of the train you had come from, so how could I have dropped anything that you found?

Clearly, I’m a bit new to being propositioned on public transport, but as the women next to me groaned and rolled their eyes, it gradually dawned on me. I opened my hand — the piece of paper had your phone number on it and a simple scrawl “Msg me, Neil”.

I don’t know if you remember me — because I wonder if you do this all the time? A sort of spread betting approach to picking up women — surely if you press your phone number into enough unsuspecting hands, one of them will message you, Neil? I’d love to know what your success rate is. Has anyone ever responded to your post-it note advances?

In fact, I have so many questions, Neil. And it’s really been playing on my mind.

Why did you think I might be interested in you? I’m sorry if this bursts your bubble, Neil, but I had no idea you even existed until you gave me your number — I can only assume you were sitting behind me in the train carriage as that’s the direction you came from. We hadn’t engaged in conversation, we hadn’t even made eye contact during the journey.

Do you think so much of yourself, that any woman would be lucky to have you — regardless of whether she’s shown any interest in you? How lovely, Neil, to have that sort of self-confidence.

Did you think I would find it romantic, in a Meg Ryan / Tom Hanks sort of way? I didn’t, Neil.

Do you just think all women are up for it, we’re just sitting around waiting for a man to give us his number? We’re not, Neil. And it makes me angry that, in this day and age, I even have to point that out.

Did you see me get up from my seat and stretch twice during my seven hour train journey? That wasn’t me flirting with you, Neil. That was just a woman stretching. Did you think I was being provocative with my dress code of a t-shirt, jeans and trainers? If you did, Neil, please never go to a beach, gym or public swimming pool as that would blow your little mind.

Or did you know it was a bit creepy, putting yourself in my personal space like that, and did it anyway? Either because you didn’t care or — worse — because you enjoyed the power you thought that gave you?

I think what I find most disturbing is that you must have been watching me on the train — something I was completely oblivious to. That feels a little creepy. I’ll be honest, Neil, when I got off the train at my station I instinctively looked over my shoulder a few times. Even though you had got off the train earlier. Your behaviour made me feel vulnerable and put me on edge.

Am I overreacting? I’m sure some people — you included, Neil — would say that I am. And I’ve spent some time trying to understand why what you did made me feel so uncomfortable, a feeling that has stayed with me for some weeks after.

Here’s the thing. You are a stranger to me, yet you made physical contact with me and invaded my personal space without checking if that was ok. And that comes down to one very basic principle, which sits at the heart of all harassment and abuse — consent, or lack thereof. So no, Neil, I don’t think I am overreacting because what you did might have seemed small and inconsequential in many ways — just a touch on the shoulder and a phone number pressed into a hand — but it’s the thin end of a big fat wedge.

A friend recently sent me a link to a YouTube video by the model Demi Rose. She’d been propositioned by her Amazon delivery driver who used her contact details to ask her on a date. Clearly unacceptable on so many levels and she told him where to go. Her video also explores the feelings of vulnerability she experienced afterwards. Like me she asked herself questions — was she dressed in a way that invited the attention? Had she flirted? The sad truth is we still live in a society where a woman’s reaction to a man’s inappropriate behaviour is to assume it’s somehow her fault.

This whole experience has reminded me of a post I read on Facebook, during the early days of Me Too. The post suggested that when men make approaches to women or interact with them, they take a moment to think about it from a different perspective. If they were in prison, and a male inmate did that to them or said that to them, how would they feel? If the answer is ok, then their interaction with the woman is fine. If it would make them feel uncomfortable or threatened, then not ok. It’s a good filter actually, Neil, how would you have felt if you were in prison and a male inmate touched you and pressed a note into your hand inviting a romantic liaison? I’m going to take a wild guess and say you’d probably be terrified.

I know you will never read this, Neil, and I must confess, I was half tempted to call you to ask you these questions. But I didn’t want you to have my phone number, because you strike me as the kind of man who sends unsolicited photos of his private parts. No offence, Neil.

Regards,

Catherine

*Names have NOT been changed. Neil deserves no anonymity. He’s lucky I’m not publishing his phone number.