An update on Dennis, the man who always asked me the time

Back in March, I bumped into one of our local marginalized men who I call ”Dennis”- because I don’t know his name and it seems like he needs one - on my way to the beach.  Until March Dennis’s eternal question had been ”Good morning darling, do you have the time.”  And my eternal answer had been ”Good morning, no I don’t have the time.” But back in March Dennis went from “Good morning darling” to holding my arm, touching my face and asking “You don’t go out at night do you?” 

I stopped walking to the beach in the morning for a few weeks after that.  But I resented, and still resent, having to be so careful.  There are already too many things a girl can’t do on her own without adding walking to the beach to the list.  So I convinced Eddie that I’d be careful, take different routes, and run if necessary; I started walking to the beach again. 

I have seen Dennis a few times since then, mostly in the distance, and each time I have turned back the way I came, or taken another road.  Just once I saw him walking on the other side of the street.  By the time I saw him it was too late to take another turn, so I just put my head down and walked hard.  Out of the corner of my eye I could see Dennis flapping and hesitating and almost crossing the road.  But he disappeared out of the corner of my eye so he must have changed his mind and I didn’t turn around to check.  Recently, I’ve been walking through the local shopping centre with Eddie and passed right by him, a couple of times. 

More recently, after eight months of walking another way to the beach, I have been walking to the beach the old way, and this morning I saw Dennis in the usual spot walking up the hill as I was walking down, on the same side of the road.  I wanted to turn around and walk back up the hill, but then I saw him hesitate and flap and almost turn around himself.  And I realised that now, he was if not scared, at least nervous of me.  I kept walking down the hill and Dennis kept walking up the hill and as we passed I said “Hello” and he said “Hello” and we both kept walking.  But I saw his face and he looked nervous and confused. 

I didn’t slow down, or stop to give him time to say “Good morning darling”, ask the time, or touch my face.  But the thing is, although Dennis’s actions have made me feel unsafe walking to the beach by myself, I feel uncomfortable about marginalizing someone who is already marginalized. 

I’m not saying I’m going to start talking to Dennis again, because I think that would be silly, but I felt like saying how difficult it is to find a balance between keeping myself safe and not making people like Dennis, who probably experience more reasons to feel unsafe than I do, feel unsafe around me.