Presumption of perversity

I took a break at lunch today and went to sit on a bench at a beach not far from work. As is typical on hot and sunny midsummer days it was well-populated both with young moms and toddlers, and with beautiful teens in nearly-nothing bikinis. As an aside to my story, I find not at all unpleasant the sight of two groups of four such lasses meeting and exchanging every combination of excited happy hugs.

While I sat taking in the air and sun, I noticed a woman, not dressed for a day at the beach, walking slowly along the path that borders it. She stopped every few feet, faced the beach, found a group of girls — my view wasn't perfect, but she appeared to be concentrating on the beach bunnies rather than the families — and very obviously snapped a photo with her SLR. She was not being shy about it, nor hurrying. She was not credentialed or uniformed in any way I could detect. After a couple of dozen photos she strolled off.

Obviously, I have no idea of her interests or motives. Could be as innocent as having a new camera and wanting to try out its bright-sun features. Could be she is trend-spotting as a buyer for next year’s swimsuits. Might have been a newspaper photographer needing a beach shot for the weather section.

But imagine if a man had done the same thing. Would one of the lifeguards have asked what he was up to? Would a passing police officer have asked to see the photos? Would the assumption have been that he was perving on the tight little almost-naked teens and preparing to head home for a session of... study and review?

Not having tried the experiment, I can’t really say. But I think the presumption of ill intentions is there for men. Justifiably? Maybe. I regret it, however.

— Frenulum