That’s Not Flirting.

One morning on the Canada Line, on a packed rush-hour train to Vancouver City Centre, I was holding on to the center pole when I suddenly felt a tickling along my hand. I thought someone had brushed into me by accident, as so many people were moving and shifting around. I pulled my hand away, then put it back, up a bit from where it had been, and felt the tickling again. I pulled my hand away again, and when I put it back, noticed the man across from me reach over and stroke my hand with his, as far up my arm as he could, and smile. And this was in front of so many others – he wasn’t trying to hide it. I caught his eye and said, “Stop it,” and pulled away sharply. No one around us said anything. It seems like such a little thing, but it was creepy and entirely unnecessary.

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