I am reminded of the repeated occasions in the mid-1970s when I was approached by ultra-friendly “Moonies” (always women) in Cambridge, MA. I used to wonder what it was about me that made them think I was amenable to their blandishments. I was very small for an alleged guy, and looked considerably younger than my age, so maybe they saw me as lonely and/or vulnerable. The very first time it happened, it took me a few minutes to figure out why this stranger was talking to me and inviting me someplace (who, me?), but after that I got better at brushing them off.