Subway Talk

I step onto the subway intent on shouldering my way to a window seat and getting some writing done on the commute home. Standing room only, of course.

But before I have time to curse my fate, I overhear a condescending voice saying “Sixteen-year-old girls and twenty-year-old guys. Why not?”

Oh no.

I swing my head and spy two young men in intense conversation. College-age, I’d guess. One of them—taller, heavier, and more animated—has a reddish beard that I can only describe as pervy. His enthusiasm for transgressing the age of consent may have something to do with my impression. The other is thin and baby-faced, and he’s clearly uncomfortable with the topic of their open-to-the-whole-subway-discussion.

Now Pervy Beard is saying, “Twenty-year-olds get with thirty-year-olds all the time, man.”

“Yeah, and people look down on that,” says Uncomfortable, “on the internet and stuff, people look down on that.”

It’s not a great argument—heaven preserve us from taking the internet’s opinions as our rule for life—but my sympathies are with him. He must feel so betrayed. Imagine! Your friend (I assume they must be friends to be having this talk) boards the subway with you without any visible signs of treachery, you suspect nothing, the doors seal you in with a bunch of strangers—and instantly your friend turns to you to say, “Sixteen-year-old girls and twenty-year-old guys. Why not?” What do you even do in that situation? Yes, I feel for Uncomfortable.

“No they don’t, dude,” says Pervy Beard, who apparently runs in rather different internet circles. “Celebrities are all…you know Leonardo DiCaprio? He’s in his forties, man. He only hangs out with eighteen-year-old women.”

“See, that’s disgusting!” protests Uncomfortable. He may not want to be in this conversation, but he’s not going to let himself be steamrolled. Good for him—I’m cheering him on in my heart.

“No it’s not. If that his tastes. If there girls are into it. It’s love, man.”

Uncomfortable doesn’t say anything. C’mon! I cry from the stands. Don’t just take that. You can beat this guy!

“You know Cormac McCarthy?” says Pervy Beard.

“Huh?”

“Cormac McCarthy. You know. You know No Country for Old Men?”

“No.”

“You know, the movie No Country for Old Men.”

“No, I haven’t seen it.”

“Great movie, man. You should see it.”

Yeah, definitely worth wat—wait, no, I can’t agree with Pervy Beard! I’m rooting for the other team. Yeah! U-N-C-O-M-F-O-R-T-A-B-L-and an E. Go Uncomfortable!

“But Cormac McCarthy,” Pervy Beard continues, “he’s a writer, great author. Hooked up with a sixteen-year-old.”(The internet leads me to believe this story is more or less true. Random students on the subway are remarkably well-informed about Cormac McCarthy’s sex life!)

 “Ok—that’s gross!” says Uncomfortable. I don’t know why Pervy Beard expected anything different. We’ve been around this mulberry bush already.

But Pervy Beard says, “Nah, man. People used to do it all the time. Back in the 50s, the 60s. It was super normal.”

“Ok…” says Uncomfortable, very skeptically. “But that was a different time.”

Good move! I think. You don’t want to litigate decades-old mores with him. Bring him back to the issue at hand. My mental foam hand waves in support.

“Nah, man. If a writer, if a creative guy like that wants to hook up with sixteen-year-old girls—let him—it just helps his writing be better, man.”

Ack!—the shock of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, ew, and also, how dare he!—on the other hand, my brain is, at any given time, wound like a coil, ready to agree with anyone who says anything in favor of great writing. Two tenths of a second pass, and I master this impulsive reaction. Ew, I think, how dare he!

“She’s underage!” says Uncomfortable, and his tone of voice exhibits the moral clarity which I took two tenths of a second to drum up. “Like, she can’t consent!”

“Psh,” scoffs Pervy Beard, “She totally can. She can drive a car and shoot a gun.”

“She can’t legally shoot a gun at sixteen,” says Uncomfortable very confidently.

“Sure she can,” says Pervy Beard, “with her father present.” But this proves to be a tactical blunder.

“With her father present?” says Uncomfortable. “With her father present?? What, is she going to sleep with some guy with her father present???”

“Well, no, it would be the same in that situation,” says Pervy Beard, but the patronizing tone is gone from his voice. He sees that he’s made a mistake.

Uncomfortable sees it too, because he doesn’t feel the need to press his advantage. They lapse into silence.

But, inside my head, the crowds go wild!