The Internet acts fake-surprised at every new sexual harassment and assault story, but I have never been surprised. Vice Magazine? Of course! The magazine feeds on sleaze. Louis C.K.? Duh! The dude admits to being a piece of shit on stage regularly. Matt Lauer? Why not! The guy leans in too far.
I won't be surprised if it comes out that the Pope is a sexual harasser. "Very hostile work environment for the altar boys," the news will say. "Wear robes with frills on them and don't expect to get treated like candy?" the Twitter trolls will say.
If the news says Martha Stewart Living Magazine is a bunch of caged sexual predators I'll believe it in a second. That rock-hard bitch went to prison; I bet she's pushed some hoes up against a wall and demanded "head or cigarettes." And I bet that after she orgasmed she took those Marlboros anyway.
Hell, even the media outlet breaking the never-ending wave of insidious sexual harassment stories, the New York Times, had their own “famous” White House reporter, Glenn Thrush, punished for inappropriate sexual behavior. Think about that.
These sexual harassment stories are just getting started. Think of all the industries it hasn't really touched. Rock n roll? Think maybe KISS harassed a girl or two? Rap? Holy shit. Construction workers? Finance? The military?
I am not surprised by sexual harassment stories because I am a man. Although, admittedly, some of us are women. And I'll bet women aren't surprised either.
Women aren't constant victims though; they harass too. They tell dirty jokes and twerk in the office. Female bosses ask employees to shake their butts. They're not fragile damsels in distress who need protection from H.R. and government from the pains and perils of the world all the time.
Because we all know we're animals. We're raw, hairy, roaring primates. Chimpanzees with bank accounts. Gorillas in sweaters. There are these urges in all of us. Evolution wants us to find people who will sleep with us, and it doesn't care in the short term whether we get them by reading poetry or by threatening to ruin their acting careers.
We don't act on these urges. Repeat: most of us don't do the bad stuff.
Though we suffocate our urges every second. We keep our eyes off that waitress. We don't openly grunt with desire at the gym. We keep our pants on.
Mostly because we have empathy, and can understand how terrible it would be to be the victim of harassment.
We also know that if we harass, we'll lose our jobs, and our friends, and possibly go to prison ending up with less chance of getting fucked by anyone who isn't our cellmate.
But I'm not surprised when someone makes the disgusting decision to harass, no more than I'm surprised if a lion escapes from a game preserve and starts hunting gazelles, or a hurricane ravages the coastline. It's nature. We can control floods with dams and bugs with pesticides — and the #MeToo movement is building dams and brewing up pesticides to curb the next crop of sexual harassers.
But — to quote Jurassic Park — "Nature, it, finds a way." Dams overflow. Bees sting. And the sexual harassment stories will keep pouring in.