Every woman knows one. He's still there, on the fringe, lurking, ready to catch us in a moment of weakness when our patience is stretched, and once again, we let him have it--right between the eyeballs--or lower.

Very few women were actually shocked by Trump's bus comments. We've all heard some version before, but usually have the option of turning and walking away. Of course, there are times when the vulgar man is a fellow employee (God forbid, a boss) or family member. In that case, though it is galling to listen to such ignorance, the best tactic is to ignore the conversation and individual.

I've been groped, cornered and humiliated in front of my peers by men who were in a position of power--and trust. But, there were no laws to protect such behaviour in my day, and absolutely no public outrage discouraging the offender. Back in the 80s and 90s, sexually predatory behaviour was almost always blamed on the women. Rape victims were chastised for the clothes they wore or 'tempting' fate by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The idea that a man could not help himself remained a common excuse. It was the woman's responsibility to not play with a man's basal instincts.

Trump's comments could hardly be classified as locker room banter. Few men would tolerate such obnoxious conversation in today's world. But I lived during a time where coarse and crude dehumanizing of women was called bonding. Women were discouraged from entering male sanctums. Calendars of naked women on garage walls proved to be an effective way to keep women from talking to mechanics. 'Trust me, little darling, it's a bargain at $3K to fix your car.'

I had the audacity to enter a male-only profession. At the first sales convention, I was standing with a group of men and they began to tell jokes. Though it has been forty-six years, I still remember the 'joke' that defined the change I made in my industry.

JOKE: "What do 100 battered women have in common?"
PUNCHLINE: "They just don't know how to listen."

I was expected to laugh. When I didn't the men stared at me, confused, after all, THEY were letting me into their world.

"That's not only NOT funny," I said, "it's downright offensive." I walked away.

I continue to walk away, and so do most people, men and women alike, when they meet a Neanderthal. If, after all this time, some remnants from the Stone Age continue to try to sexualize, demean or bully women, I'm quite certain they will wilt in the urine of their own incontinence.

Really, I don't care if there are idiots out there; they're part of the demographics. Nothing I, or anyone else could say, will change their mind, and I won't try. But should one of these relics hit me at a weak moment, God help the man. I will definitely ruin his day.