grant me the confidence of a mediocre white man

This morning I hear a knock on my door. My big dog is in the back yard and my little dog doesn't hear so well, so I don't know how long he has been knocking. I open it and see a tall hefty middle-aged white man, who smiles and asks, "Are you happy?"

My voice says "What?" while my face is saying "Are you crazy?"

He asks, "Is this [house number]?"

I say, "Yes?" Is he a Jehovah's Witness? One of those "real estate investors" who keeps asking to buy my house? A criminal knocking on random doors to see who answers? He is carrying a small fire extinguisher, which is not a great weapon, but he is a lot bigger than me.

His mouth gets wider. "Are you happy?"

I'm still looking at him like he's crazy. He's still looking at me like I'm the one who must be mistaken.

I shake my head. "What?!"

"I'm So-and-so from Such-and-such," he says reproachfully. "I told Abigail I'd be stopping by this morning."

"You have the wrong address," I say. "Maybe you're looking for South [street name]?"

He says that might be it. He doesn't apologize for bothering me.


I feel a lot of sympathy in response to this post about the emotional isolation of men, but I wish I could explain to men: Those defensive shields strange women raise when you approach them are not just about the possibility of assault. They're also about the actuality of your massive sense of entitlement to women's time and attention.