Speaking for myself, at least three #MeToo posts in my Facebook feed came from women who might well, among other experiences, be thinking about me. There’s the former colleague who used to joke about how blatantly I would check her out. There’s the ex-girlfriend who broke things off in part because of one night where she felt I hadn’t listened to what her body language was saying about what she wanted, or didn’t want. There’s the former classmate who I couldn’t keep my hands off of in high school — a common enough occurrence in my teenage years that I acquired a nickname. I was known as “hands across America.”

I doubt I’m at the top of any of these women’s lists. And I’m not the kid I was in high school. But I also know those aren’t the only times I’ve made a woman feel uncomfortable, vulnerable, or nervous. I’m glad of the times someone has told me so. I hope I’ve been appropriately apologetic, and not — as men too often do — reacted defensively. And I’ve striven to be aware of those kinds of dynamics, and to change them myself, and not wait to be told.