Pauliina FlamThis post is based on my personal experience and reflections. It is shared for educational and awareness purposes — to shed light on how harassment, power dynamics, and boundary violations can unfold in everyday situations. I have taken care not to name individuals or businesses, and I am not making legal claims. Instead, I’m offering my story as a way to foster conversation, reflection, and change. This is not about revenge or blame. It’s about safety, dignity, and the need for more compassionate, responsible systems — especially in workplaces where harm can be overlooked or dismissed.
During my recent trip to Croatia, I encountered sexual harassment. This experience led me to reflect on the nature of harassment, accountability, and the importance of a reasonable response. And I feel like sharing all that with you.
Harassment, Decoded: The Three Things That Make It What It Is
So, what is harassment? The World Health Organization (WHO) defines sexual harassment as “any unwelcome sexual advance, request for sexual favor, or other verbal or physical conduct of a sexual nature that creates a hostile or offensive environment.”
Great. Accurate. But also… a bit of a snooze. So let’s make it more real.
Harassment can look like a “harmless” comment about someone’s body. A touch on the lower back. An uninvited kiss. A message with a wink you didn’t really ask for. But it’s not about the act itself—it’s about the context. And I think that is exactly what makes it complex to understand. Because that means the same gesture can feel fine in one moment and violating in another. What matters is whether it was wanted, consensual, and respectful. Let’s break it down into three key elements to understand it better.
- Lack of consent: The behavior is unwelcome and uninvited. Maybe someone didn’t want to be touched, commented on, or flirted with. Consent is not just about saying “no”—it’s also about whether a person feels safe and free to say no. Silence isn’t a yes. Feeling pressured isn’t consent. Just because you were comfortable doesn’t mean the other person was.
- Impact beats intent: You might think you’re being nice. They might feel creeped out. Guess which one matters more? It’s not about what you meant—it’s about how it lands. A hug might feel friendly to one person, but if it makes someone else uncomfortable, that discomfort matters more than the hugger’s good intentions. Harassment is judged by how the behavior is experienced, not by what the person “meant.”
- Violation of boundaries: Boundaries can be physical (like your personal space), emotional (like what topics you’re okay discussing), professional (like how someone treats you at work), or social (like how someone acts in public settings). A boundary violation might look like someone standing too close, repeatedly touching your arm, or making personal comments that make you uncomfortable — even if they say they’re “just being friendly.” The key isn’t their intent, but how it feels to you. If it feels invasive, it probably is. And you have the right to name that.
Is it just a rare accident?
Absolutely not. Harassment is far more common than many want to believe. According to the National Sexual Violence Resource Center
81% of women and 43% of men in the U.S. have experienced sexual harassment or assault in their lifetime. Across the EU, the European Gender-Based Violence Survey reports that 55% of women have faced sexual harassment since age 15. That’s not a minor issue — that’s a massive societal failure.
This kind of behavior doesn’t just happen in shady corners or hostile workplaces. It happens in cafés, on public transport, at parties, and in everyday life. It happens to people of every gender, in every age group, all over the world. Given the stats, you’d think we’d be better at dealing with it. Spoiler alert: we’re not.
When Harassment Gets Served with Dinner
This is a personal story based on my memory and my lived experience. The names of individuals and establishments are not mentioned to protect privacy. The purpose of this story is to shed light on boundary violations and systemic responses to them, not to harm or defame any specific individual or institution. I share it for educational purposes, with the intention of fostering awareness, dialogue, and accountability.
The most recent harassment I experienced happened during a trip to Croatia. I was in a small town near Krka National Park, known for its stunning waterfalls and lush forest paths. The trip was going great until I managed to miss my bus on the way back by waiting at the wrong stop. Clearly, I was meant to have an adventure, just not the adventure I expected.
Apparently, the stop on my ticket turned out to be incorrect. With my phone battery low and needing to rebook a ticket and possibly request a refund, I stepped into a nearby restaurant to charge my phone. The indoor area was quiet. A waiter greeted me — friendly, talkative, and maybe a little too familiar from the start. But I brushed it off. I was focused on charging my phone, contacting Flixbus, and all the logistics.
Then came a series of strange comments. When I said I might like dessert, he told me they didn’t have ice cream, but offered to walk me to a nearby place to get some together. I declined. It felt off.
Later, he questioned why I was “on my phone so much.” I explained the bus situation. He then offered me a place to stay at his home “just in case” I didn’t make it back. I told him that I had a flight the next day and needed to return that night. I was just a guest trying to sort out travel problems — and he was a waiter crossing professional boundaries.
As I recall, at one point, he asked if I had an Instagram account. And honestly, that part didn’t raise red flags in me — restaurant staff often want customers to tag them. Since mine is a travel-channel account, I shared it without worry.
Eventually, I’d eaten, charged my phone, rebooked my ticket, and gone to the restroom. As I was leaving, I went to the counter to pay. As I paid, the waiter gestured toward the bathroom area (the only area out of sight from the terrace and kitchen). Since I just got out of the restrooms, I thought I must’ve forgotten something, so I followed.
That’s when it happened.
Behind the wall, out of view, he suddenly pulled me into a tight hug, leaned in close, pressed his face near me while stroking my back, told me I was beautiful, and said he wanted to kiss me. I froze. It took me a few seconds to register what was going on. I was shocked and deeply uncomfortable. Then I pulled away, told him his behavior made me very uncomfortable, and stepped back. Shaken, I walked to my seat, gathered my things as fast as I could, and before walking out, I said, “Don’t ever do this to any of your clients.” On that note, he just smiled and shrugged, which left me feeling discouraged and powerless. Only once I walked far enough from the restaurant did I begin to fully grasp what happened. My physical boundaries had been violated. And just like that, a space that had felt safe became threatening.
Justice, Reviews, and Other Slippery Concepts
After the incident, I did what I thought was fair: I contacted the owner of the restaurant. It felt like the right place to start — I mean, how can someone be held accountable for something they don’t know happened? After I first reached out, I didn’t hear back. When I followed up, the owner told me she hadn’t responded yet because she wanted to speak with the waiter in person — to “look him in the eyes,”. When her response finally arrived, I felt less heard and more dismissed. It felt like I’d come forward only to be told: “This is a you-problem.” Dismissive, defensive, and firmly unwilling to take responsibility. So yes—I did write a factual review, because silence solves nothing—but I also started exploring next steps.
That’s when I learned that, apparently, pointing out harassment is sometimes more legally precarious than committing it. If I wanted actual accountability — by naming the waiter, or even just showing the name of the place — I’d likely be opening myself up to legal threats. Not him. Me. The person who got harassed. That’s the kind of backwards logic survivors are up against. If my friends want to support me by leaving reviews expressing their distress, they risk being flagged as spam. The messages could disappear like they never existed, and nobody would hear my story.
Studies show this isn’t uncommon. A 2010 review found only about 6% of reports are false —meaning fear of legal blowback shouldn’t silence real voices. Yet 75% of people who report harassment experience retaliation or being treated unfairly afterward. Speaking up can become scarier than staying silent.
This “chilling effect” is well-documented: when survivors face threats—legal or social—it discourages them from speaking out. And when their words are spun as “defamation” or “he said, she said,” the survivors feel second‑guessed and dismissed.
It’s brutal: the system is not always set up for victims—it often shields the accused. So survivors are told: “Stay silent, or risk it.” That’s what we need to change.
So, here we are. In this blog post — created as part of my sexology studies — I’m not naming names or locations. But I’m doing something broader. I’m raising awareness. I’m talking about how harassment happens, and how we, as a culture, still have some growing up to do. Because if I can’t safely call someone out, I can at least call the issue forward.
Red Flags in Disguise (and Other Things We Ignore)
When people hear the word harassment, they often imagine something obvious — loud, violent, unmistakable. Something you’d call the police for. But in reality, harassment is less horror movie and more slow-burn psychological thriller. It hides in the little things that are easier to dismiss: a joke that feels off, a hand that lingers, a shift in tone once you’re alone. It’s not usually the stuff of headlines — it’s the stuff of gut feelings.
That’s exactly why I want to take a closer look at three very specific ingredients that often show up in harassment stories — mine included: power dynamics, secluded environments, and lack of consent. These aren’t just the backdrop of what happened to me. They’re recurring motifs in studies, policy handbooks nobody remembers signing, and survivor testimonies that never make it past the “he didn’t mean it” defense.
Power Dynamic
Here’s something to chew on: if a random guy on the street waved at you to follow him into a bathroom, you’d probably speed-walk in the opposite direction. But when a waiter does it in a restaurant? Somehow, it doesn’t feel bizarre—it feels like part of the dining experience. Like, “Oh right, this must be the part where I rescue my missing handbag from the restroom.”
That’s exactly what I thought: “I must’ve left something behind, and he’s just doing me a favor.”
Because there’s this invisible script we all follow in public spaces—especially in service environments. It whispers, “Relax. This is normal. He works here. It’s probably nothing.”
That whisper is called power dynamics. And it has a sneaky way of dulling your alarm bells when someone in a position of perceived authority blurs a boundary. And apparently, that’s exactly how power dynamics work.
Sexual harassment often thrives in places where power is out of balance. Whether it’s because of a job title, the setting, or the unwritten rules society plays by, power can make people forget boundaries. According to research published in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology (Keltner, Gruenfeld, & Anderson, 2003), people with power are not only more likely to cross lines but also more likely to gaslight themselves into thinking it’s no big deal. So, when someone in power ignores your boundaries, it’s not just bad manners — it’s a serious problem rooted in how power shapes behavior.
Let’s look at my case through the lens of power dynamics. Sure, as a customer, I have some power — I can complain, leave a review, or withhold a tip. But that hardly levels the playing field. The waiter is the one in uniform, operating on his own turf, backed by the restaurant, and automatically perceived as trustworthy just for doing his job. In fact, research from 1983 shows that in service industries, power often lies with the staff — especially when the setting is unfamiliar to the customer and when the staff member has control over the interaction. So when your job description is “make people feel welcome,” it’s surprisingly easy to cross a line — especially when no one’s watching how you do it.
Secluded Environment
Isolation isn’t just for dramatic plot twists — it’s a classic move in the Harasser’s Handbook. Cutting someone off from witnesses or support isn’t a coincidence; it’s usually logistics. A dimly lit corner out of sight is not ambiance — it’s tactical positioning. And even if nothing physically violent happens, that isolation still works exactly as intended: it makes you feel vulnerable and unprotected.
Research backs this up. Studies show that perpetrators of workplace harassment often choose secluded settings on purpose. A 2020 report from the U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission found that isolation is a common tactic used to avoid witnesses and increase control. One 2019 study published in Gender, Work & Organization even found that harassment is significantly more likely to occur in spaces with limited visibility or supervision. So your gut feeling that getting led away wasn’t random is not wrong. Isolation isn’t about romance — it’s about calculated invisibility.
In my case, it’s difficult not to interpret the seclusion as intentional. The waiter didn’t simply end up in that quiet back space — he gestured for me to follow him there, away from the eyes of his colleagues. That alone raised red flags. It suggested he may have known his behavior would be inappropriate — and that he hoped it wouldn’t be witnessed.
After all, “escorting guests into dim, empty corners” isn’t exactly in a waiter’s job description — unless the restaurant moonlights as a haunted house. In which case, sign me up. This, however, was a scary experience I never agreed to.
What’s especially frustrating is how the owner responded when I brought this up. She pointed out that the “secluded area” wasn’t far from the main dining space — as if harm operates within a fixed radius. I suppose next time I’ll bring a measuring tape and alert her when I’ve officially crossed into “danger zone” territory. But seriously — why wasn’t that behavior questioned? Why was it brushed aside so casually?
Consent: Not Just a Vibe
Let’s talk about consent for a moment. Not the corporate handbook kind — the real kind, slippery and inconvenient, that somehow makes smart adults forget how to think clearly. Because apparently, laughing at someone’s joke, answering politely, or giving your Instagram is now considered as “yes, please escort me to a hidden corner and touch me without asking.”
In reality, consent is not a vibe you are supposed to catch, and it’s definitely not something you decode like a hidden message. It’s communication. It’s clear. It’s ongoing. And according to a 2022 report in Violence Against Women, nearly 1 in 2 women worldwide still experience some form of sexual harassment — often from someone who “didn’t mean anything by it.”
Let’s remind ourselves: consent is an agreement that’s freely given, enthusiastic, specific, and reversible. That’s the standard outlined by the WHO and sexual health guidelines. It’s also not assumed, or fished out from politeness. It’s not hidden inside a joke, a smile, or a friendly comment. It’s not that complicated — if you’re not sure, you ask. If you’re too afraid to ask because you think the answer might be “no” — well, there’s your answer.
So yes — I was polite. I smiled. I laughed. And I like to believe that is because I was raised to be respectful, not because I was secretly trained to be harassed in the dark corner.
How (Not) to Respond to a Harassment Report
When someone reports harassment — especially in a setting where they’re a guest, not an employee — your response will either begin to repair trust… or dig the wound deeper. Timing matters. The longer you wait to respond, the more it can feel like you’re hoping it just goes away.
Here’s what to do right, and what to definitely avoid:
1. Acknowledge the Complaint
✅ Good response:
“Thank you for telling us. We’re listening.”
“This is serious, and I appreciate you bringing it to our attention.”
❌ Poor response:
“Are you sure it wasn’t a misunderstanding?”
“That doesn’t sound like him.”
“He’s just friendly — he didn’t mean anything by it.”
👎 Why it matters:
Doubting the person from the start signals that you’re more interested in protecting reputations than ensuring safety. It also assumes the harasser’s version is the neutral baseline — a subtle but common power play.
2. Show Empathy
✅ Good response:
“I’m really sorry this disturbing thing happened to you. It must have been upsetting.”
“That sounds really uncomfortable. I can imagine it was hard to bring up.”
❌ Poor response:
“Sorry you felt that way.”
“You seem very sensitive.”
“It was just a compliment.”
👎 Why it matters:
Saying “sorry you feel like that” shifts blame onto the victim’s perception instead of acknowledging the inappropriate behavior. A trauma-informed approach centers the impact, not the intent.
3. Take It Seriously
✅ Good response:
“This kind of behavior isn’t tolerated here.”
“We’re going to look into this right away and take the necessary steps.”
“We’ll treat this confidentially and follow up soon.”
❌ Poor response:
“We’ll keep an eye on him.”
“All other clients like him very much…”
“We’ve never had a complaint before.”
👎 Why it matters:
Dismissing a report because it’s the “first time” you hear it only reinforces silence. The absence of complaints doesn’t mean the absence of harm — it often just means people didn’t feel safe enough to speak.
4. Own Up and Take Action
✅ Good response:
“We’re sorry this happened on our premises. It is unacceptable.”
“We’re temporarily removing the staff member until we’ve fully investigated.”
“We’re reviewing our training and changing our policies to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
❌ Poor response:
“He’s been with us for years — this is really unlike him.”
“He probably thought you were flirting.”
“We’ll tell him to be more careful next time.”
👎 Why it matters:
Apologizing without changing anything is just PR. Accountability means you’re willing to act — not just issue statements and hope for the best.
When Empathy Meets Doubt: The False Claim Dilemma
Most major studies have found that false reports of sexual harassment or assault are very rare—typically estimated at 2% to 10% of all reports. For instance, a review by Lisak et al. (2010) of 10 years of cases found the rate of false reports to be around 5.9%. Other research consistently shows that the overwhelming majority of claims are truthful.
So, statistically speaking, encouraging people to take every complaint seriously is not the same as assuming guilt—it’s about creating a process where the victim is heard, the situation is assessed fairly, and safety is prioritized. False accusations are real—but they’re not the epidemic some make them out to be. The far bigger problem is that real harassment is ignored, minimized, or brushed off with a smile and a complimentary drink.
When Support Fails
Sexual harassment is often misunderstood — and even when reported, it’s rarely met with true accountability or serious concern. A 2023 study in the Employee Responsibilities and Rights Journal found most organisations responded to less than half of the harassment claims they received—and usually with just a warning to the accused, not meaningful change. I got a front-row seat to this disappointing reality. When I reported what happened to the restaurant owner, I expected at least a serious conversation. Instead, I got a masterclass in how to sidestep responsibility. Let me take you through some of the more unsettling moments from it, because these are very usual ways in dismissing sexual harassment claims.
One of the things mentioned was that there had been no complaints in the past 11 years. How do I hear it? That this must be an isolated incident — maybe even an overreaction — because no one has spoken up before.
But silence doesn’t always mean safety. Sometimes it means fear. Or shame. Or the sinking feeling that speaking up won’t lead to anything but more discomfort.
A lack of prior reports doesn’t erase what happened. Nor does it prove that nothing else ever has. I’m not here to stain a clean record — I’m here to question whether it was as spotless as it seemed, or simply unexamined.
I was told that many clients have said he’s a good person.
And I don’t doubt that some have had positive experiences. But being kind in some settings doesn’t cancel out harmful behavior in others. This kind of defense taps into a dangerous myth — that if someone is liked or trusted by others, they couldn’t possibly do something wrong.
Harm doesn’t need a villain costume. Sometimes it wears a smile and offers excellent customer service.
When we reduce safety to a popularity contest, we send the message that harm is only real if enough people vote for it. But that’s not how accountability works — or at least, it shouldn’t be.
Another thing I got was that “he did not mean anything by it”. This is a very common way to handle claims, so let’s look closer at it. That line leans heavily on intent, as if meaning well cancels out the outcome. But in situations like these, impact is what counts. If someone accidentally knocks you over with a shopping cart, you’re still on the floor — bruises don’t check whether the collision was deliberate or accidental.Unwanted physical contact doesn’t become appropriate just because the person “didn’t mean anything.” And in this case, the details weren’t exactly ambiguous. I was guided into a secluded area. That’s not the kind of thing that happens by chance. If the explanation is truly “he meant nothing by it”… then I’m curious what did he mean? A private tour of emergency exits?
I was assured that this won’t happen again, because the waiter now knows to separate work and private life. To my ear that framing makes it sound like the issue was bad scheduling — not the fact that someone crossed serious boundaries while on the job. Saying he now knows to “separate work from private life” subtly suggests the harassment wasn’t the problem — just when it happened. So was this okay if it happened elsewhere in free time? For me, the real issue isn’t that his boundaries were blurry. It’s that mine didn’t matter. The focus shouldn’t be on how workers manage their off-hours — it should be on how people are treated during the on-hours. That’s like scolding a smoke alarm for being too loud, instead of asking why there’s smoke in the first place.
I was told that he may have believed there was mutual attraction. Even if that were true — which, again, was based on me smiling like a normal person — mutual attraction is not a free pass. Real mutuality means both people are clearly on the same page. Not one person projecting a romance novel onto someone who’s just trying to finish their food. Framing the situation this way doesn’t explain the behavior — it excuses it. It shifts the focus away from what he actually did, and onto what he felt — as if his internal hopes somehow hold more weight than another person’s boundaries. What he may have believed doesn’t matter more than the actions he chose. That’s where accountability begins.
So, let’s say it louder:
Being polite isn’t flirting.
Being warm isn’t consent.
And sharing your Instagram is not an invitation to a Touch Me party.
Let’s advocate for a world where you can be friendly, kind, and human — without getting punished for it.
At one point, it was suggested that perhaps there had been a misunderstanding — maybe due to differences in language, behavior, or culture. And sure, cultural misunderstandings happen. During my practice in Spain, I once went in for a firm handshake while everyone else leaned in for cheek kisses. I ended up jabbing someone in the ribs like a confused fencer. We all laughed, adjusted, and moved on. That was awkward, mutual, and harmless. But this? This felt different. It felt like a personal boundary being crossed — not a cultural ritual lost in translation.
I do not think that respecting someone’s body should require an intercultural seminar. It should not be some complex European etiquette rule — it should be basic decency. Using “culture” as a catch-all explanation sounds like a tempting shortcut to dodge responsibility. Unless there’s a tradition I missed where waiters lead guests into secluded corners for some uninvited hands-on hospitality — but I don’t recall that being part of the brochure.
I was told that the area he led me to wasn’t hidden — it was simply another section, just a few meters away from where I had eaten. Which… completely misses the point. This kind of response sounds like reframing the issue as a matter of floor plan logistics, not behavior. But safety isn’t measured by GPS coordinates. ” It’s about how someone makes you feel — especially when they lead you away from others in a situation where you can’t easily leave. The problem wasn’t the map. It was the motive. Measuring the seriousness of unwanted contact by how many meters away it occurred is like deciding if theft counts based on how far from the cashier it happened. I think when we start asking how hidden the harassment usually is, instead of why it happens in the first place, we’re dodging the actual harm.
At one point, I was told the waiter had simply wanted to help me in a “difficult situation” — even offering a place to stay — and that this was seen as a kind and collegial gesture. That part made me pause. A waiter offering a guest accommodation — especially one he reportedly felt attracted to — doesn’t read as “collegial” to me. I even had to double-check the meaning of the word in case I’d misunderstood. Spoiler: I hadn’t.
This wasn’t a peer lending a couch in a trusted community of travelers. It wasn’t someone I knew, or someone I’d asked for help. It was a man who proceeded to cross my boundaries later on, offering unsolicited personal support in a context thick with imbalance. Power dynamics matter — especially when someone is in a service role and the other is a guest. Hospitality offered under such circumstances can feel less like kindness and more like pressure dressed up as generosity.
When help is extended in a way that benefits the helper more than the one receiving it, we have to ask: was it really help — or was it another boundary being pushed? Framing it as “collegial” sidesteps the discomfort and gives it a professional shine it simply doesn’t deserve. In that kind of context, offering a place to stay isn’t support — it’s inappropriate. And calling it otherwise doesn’t make it less so.
I expect that a workplace that genuinely values care would recognize that — and address the behavior, not romanticize it.
Another thing I got from the response was that the waiter stopped when I said no. ..Well, a standing ovation, then? Maybe a certificate of basic human conduct? Stopping when someone is clearly uncomfortable is a bare minimum, a floor of human decency. If you knock over someone’s drink and then wipe it up, you don’t get praised for bringing a napkin — especially when you’re the one who spilled it in the first place. The response I got sounds to me like the situation is somehow redeemable because it didn’t get worse. My question isn’t “Did he stop?” — it’s “Why did he think he could start?”
One part of the response extended an invitation: that if I’m ever nearby again, I should “visit and give them a chance to change my opinion.” Clearly, the best way to fix boundary violations is by asking the victim to walk right back into the lion’s den — maybe this time the lion will be in a better mood. But safety isn’t a gamble, and trauma isn’t cured by repeated exposure.
Telling someone to just come back after being harassed ignores what they’re carrying — the fear, the discomfort, the violation. It unintentionally puts the pressure back on the person who was hurt — as if the real issue is whether they can change their mind, instead of reflecting on what could have been done to keep them safe in the first place. But this wasn’t a disappointing latte I can send back and try again. To me it felt like a serious violation. And that deserves more than hospitality gestures and good intentions — it demands accountability, not a return visit.
The owner wrote that she’s not a police officer or psychologist, and therefore can’t do anything. But being an employer — especially in hospitality — does come with responsibility: not to investigate crimes, but to take concerns seriously, to create safe environments, and to uphold professional standards. Dismissing everything with “there are two sides to every story” might sound neutral, but in reality, it often silences the person harmed.
Then came the legal threat — that he would go to the police and prove his innocence. That this might be about lies or defamation. The message was clear: you’ve gone too far now. It’s a pattern many victims will recognize — where reporting harm leads to being seen as the problem. Where, instead of compassion, you’re met with legal language. And where, in the end, the priority isn’t resolving harm but restoring silence.
Her final words — “the punishment regarding you and him will be determined by the court” — placed me and the waiter on the same scale, as if our actions were equally questionable. That, too, is a form of erasure. Of what happened. Of who held power. Of who made whom feel unsafe. Let me be clear: I never asked for a trial. I never asked her to play judge or police. I asked for recognition, accountability, and a response that reflected care. What I got instead was the door closed on me — politely at first, and then, unmistakably, slammed shut.
Damage Control or Damage Done?
Reading her response left me with more questions than answers. I found myself wondering: what was the real intention behind her comments? Because from my perspective, none of it seemed to prioritize the safety of the client — me. Here’s how it felt:
- Victim-Blaming: By emphasizing my behavior or personality, responsibility shifts onto me instead of addressing the actions.
- Minimizing the Incident: Downplaying it as a professional mix-up avoided recognizing the seriousness of what happened.
- Avoiding Accountability: By citing reputation or cultural misunderstandings, responsibility is deflected without addressing the core issue. Phrases like “I am not qualified to deal with this” feels like deflection of responsibility.
- No Concrete Actions: There were no mentions of staff training, policy updates, or measures to prevent similar incidents in the future.
In sum, every sentence in her response seemed designed to soften, sidestep, or reframe what happened — to protect the institution and the staff member, not the person who was harmed. Rather than holding anyone accountable, I was encouraged to reinterpret the experience, to doubt myself, or to see it as no big deal. It wasn’t just what she said — it was what was missing. Responsibility. Empathy. Clarity. Action. And a simple recognition that what happened wasn’t okay.
“Nice Guys” And The Hidden Side Of Harassment
Reading her message felt a bit like showing up to a book club where everyone’s discussing a completely different novel than the one you read — same characters, wildly different plot. Some parts left me genuinely confused. I wasn’t sure what she was referencing, and that made me wonder: what exactly did he tell her? And how convincingly did he do it? Because her response didn’t reflect concern, it reflected belief in a version of events that wasn’t mine.
One thing that’s both frustrating and depressingly familiar is how people who behave inappropriately often work overtime to come off as the friendliest, most charming human you’ve ever met. And no, that’s not just my jaded heart talking -even though that too- it’s a well-documented phenomenon in psychology and social behavior.
People who cross boundaries or behave inappropriately often work overtime to look like the friendliest, most charming souls on the planet. According to research in Personality and Social Psychology Review (Jones & Paulhus, 2018), individuals with manipulative tendencies frequently present themselves as charming or trustworthy. Similarly, research on workplace harassment notes that offenders often have positive reputations, which can silence victims and complicate accountability (Fitzgerald et al., 2019). Not because they’re actually good people — but because they’re really invested in looking like good people. So, for them, being “well-liked” is a shield. And charm is a tool. And it works surprisingly well. So when someone says, “But he’s always been so friendly,” I believe them. That was their experience— because sometimes, friendly is just part of the act.
Let’s Take Care
Harassment happens when someone ignores boundaries and skips the whole “consent” part of being around other humans. And no, it doesn’t become excusable just because someone “meant well” or thought they read the vibe. Consent isn’t a guessing game; it’s explicit, ongoing, and non-negotiable. Like GPS directions — if you don’t hear “continue,” don’t take a wild turn.
This isn’t about pointing fingers — it’s about getting honest, staying safe, and making real change. If something similar happened to you, you’re not alone. Your voice matters — even when the world tries to hit mute. I wish for a world where boundaries are respected the first time, not after a PR crisis. If this video resonates with you, share it. Let’s start a conversation about how we can do better—as individuals, as businesses, and as a society.