Molly’s story: Keep your hands to yourself

Dear Middle Aged Man wearing a hat on the TTC:

I was on my way to a formal event at my law school. I thought I was looking nice and I was excited for my night, but as soon as I got on the subway I felt uncomfortable. People were staring. I guess that’s to be expected, though: it’s not every day that you see a woman in a cocktail dress and stilettos on a train full of commuters, in daylight.

As we get closer to Downsview, I move towards the doors and stand holding onto one of the poles with one hand for balance. The subway was no longer packed. You held onto that same pole. You put your hand on my hand. I thought it was an accident, so I politely moved my hand away. You put your hand on my hand again. I moved my hand again. The train lurched, I didn’t want to fall. You put your hand on my hand again. I moved my hand and kept looking straight ahead. We arrived at the station, the doors open and I made a quick exit. I walked as fast as my formal wear would allow. I didn’t look back, I think you followed for a little while.

At the end of my commute I washed my hands twice.

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