Douchebags in elevators

I spent an inordinate amount of time with new guy and Douchebag today. New guy and I went to the Remembemererance Day ceremony at City Hall which was good. Except that, on the way there, he pulled me towards him in the elevator and tried to give me another face hickey and then, on the way back in the elevator, asked me what my breast size was.

Him: "what's your boob size?"
Me: stare of death (apparently futile)
Him: "B?"
Me: look of condescending superiority
Him: "C??"
Me: look of condescending smugness
Him: "nice"

Naturally, none of this prevented me from having lunch with him where he alternately ignored me in favour of his (not one but) two (!) blackberries and told me stories about the girls he has slammed/dated in the past. Truly charming.

Douchebag, on the other hand, was considerably better behaved today. We went downstairs for a mid-afternoon sugar break and, when we were waiting for the elevator, he said, "you're a very pretty girl, you know that?" I rolled my eyes and shot him a mental, "fuck you, I'm a woman not a girl, moron".

Hmm, maybe the problem is actually men + elevators.