Geraldo Rivera’s 1991 memoir is a f***fest-filled bible of workplace harassment

I couldn’t stop thinking, as I was reading about Rivera’s “flirtations” and “seductions” how many didn’t make the book’s final cut. As I stood there at my life’s nadir, reading over all of the sex pages from the Geraldo Rivera book I wasn’t allowed to take out of the library, reflecting on my life choices, I wondered: If this is what Geraldo included in his memoirs, how many of Rivera’s workplace advances were rebuffed? How many didn’t make Geraldo look cool or macho? How many women weren’t interested in making out with their boss on the dance floor of a Seattle Mexican restaurant, in front of the whole camera crew, before they chowed down on tacos? How many opted to leave their industry because of him?

This memoir was written in a different age, of course. But there are plenty of men like Geraldo Rivera or Matt Lauer or Mark Halperin in media who do still believe that romantically pursuing subordinates or commenting on colleagues’ tits is part of their benefits package. There are plenty of men who blur the line between the personal and professional so fervently that sexual availability becomes a de facto job requirement, as it did with Lauer and Charlie Rose. These are the men who women understand must go in order for equal opportunity to be possible on a practical level.