I was hanging out at Cue Bar (a basement establishment) last Friday night with friends when I went upstairs to get some fresh air. Two people -- a man and a woman -- were near the bottom of the stairs seemingly in a loving embrace. I mumbled "excuse me" as I slid past them when, about halfway up the stairs, the woman said, "Can I get a little help here?"
I looked back down and from my vantage point, it suddenly looked like he was manhandling her in a physical and unwelcoming way and that she was trying to get out of the situation without being too forceful. In that instant, I walked back down toward them and started to tell the guy to get his hands off of her, even grabbed his arm, when she started to laugh and said, "I was kidding, I'm kidding!"
The man laughed and didn't say anything. All I uttered was "Oh" and walked back upstairs. She said, "Thanks, though, good to know you would have helped."
I didn't feel good about it, though. I felt like a chump. Having seen family and friends really get harassed made me feel like this display of crocodile tears -- for attention, for fun, to see her man beat up a Good Samaritan, I don't know -- was the wrong thing to do.
This is aggravating. I hate it when people cry wolf, get outsiders involved, then laugh it off as "kidding." Harassment is no laughing matter at all. I hope they stop this horrific habit, because one day when she may really need help no one will believe her. Arjewtino, don't let clowns like that stop you from being a Good Samaritan.
This story I'm about to relate wasn't a prank like Arjewtino's story, but it's in the same line. A few years ago I was out at 80s night in Adams Morgan. This clod was drunk and bothering all these women in sight---yours truly as well. I pushed his face away from me. He kept pestering this one girl by manhandling her, trying to drunk kiss her, etc. She looked uncomfortable. If I were in that situation I'd want someone helping me out of it, so I (100-lb. weakling at 5'4'') pushed him (about 6', average build) off, and he barely stumbles.
"Heyyyyyyy," he slurs. "Who are you?" (The same chick you just tried to make drunken passes at a few minutes prior, dumbass.)
"It's okay," the girl said. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
She nods in the affirmative, but it just didn't sit right with me. I was glad when his friends finally dragged his sorry butt home. Seriously, if you have a problem speak up. Don't allow yourself to be uncomfortable.