Cat Calls

On Thanksgiving, my sister and I were on a walk, and she tweeted something I said to the effect of, "I hope Obama doesn't fix the jobs act soon because the bums calling me beautiful on the way to school is necessary to my self-esteem." I was kidding, but only kind of. Because in my short fifteen minute bike ride I usually get at least one cat call of some kind. I really have no idea why this is. I really don't understand cat calls--especially to girls on bikes.

A couple weeks ago, Ro and I were on a walk when a guy screamed out of his speeding car, "YOU'RE HOTT." I yelled in mock desperation, "Wait! Come back! If you love us, why would you leave us!?" And the car paused a couple blocks up, and we panicked before realizing there was a stop sign.

It's like...what's the purpose? It's not an actual pick-up. Is it some kind of hope to exert an uncomfortable power? To make women feel victimized for no real reason? It's not earnest. 80% of the time I'm on my bike I'm sweating my face off. And, as a strong, independent female, how does one react? I usually show I'm not intimidated and say "thank you" as I whiz by. Does this encourage that behavior? Is random yelling at women "Good morning, gorgeous" offensive in the first place? Because maybe it's not.

Today on my way to work I was stopped at a big intersection with lots of cars and people all around. A man jogged right in front of me as the crosswalk was blinking a red hand. He yelled out, "WOO! I MADE IT." And I smiled at him, because we should celebrate just making lights. He turned to me and boomed so allllll could hear: "Oh. My. GOD. You are BEAUTIFUL." Since I didn't have the security of motion, and all these people were watching, I blushed down at the ground, and put up my palm.

Immediately, a thunderous, "THAT WAS A COMPLIMENT. I'M NOT HITTING ON YOU. GET OVER YOURSELF."

And you betcha I felt victimized for no reason. And I bore a hole into the asphalt under my front tire, and I took off like a rocket when I got that green.

Sincerely

Dude, two nights ago I stopped for gas after rehearsal, and I decided to look at things inside the snack-station. (Okay, I am just now realizing that in my head the building on the gas station premises I have always called a "snack station"--it only just occurs to me writing this now that my secret in-my-head-definition might not be one anyone else uses. Moving on...Except also I should explain I go inside snack stations very often because I like to look at candy and the fridges of colorful drinks even if I don't want to buy any. NOW, moving on.) A thirtysomething guy in nasty brown sweat pants that were kind of like capris came in to pay for his gas. He looked at me and licked his lips.

I headed to my car. Then, a minute later I hear this guy yelling through the rain, "Lemme--lemme--lemme--" I didn't look up because I was still hoping there was some kind of misunderstanding. After all, I was sporting pigtails, a bright yellow headband, and the Catcher in the Rye t-shirt my aunt gave me. Come on, man. But he finally yelled, "CAN I PUMP YOUR GAS FOR YOU?" A little late. I was just getting back in my car.

I'm pretty sure this dude wanted me to feel embarrassed and flustered. I mean, he sure didn't really think he was going to get my number right? In his sketched-out outfit? I mean, did he really intend to take me in my daffodil boat shoes out to dinner sometime? So, instead of getting crazy awkward or scared, I just tossed my hand at him, "Oh, get out of town," I said with a modest grin. And, HE mirrored it back the smile like, "Awwwww, shucks. Okay. I am being ridiculous." And he kind of waved me a good night.

Basically, when you're honest and just open up to people, you'll be pleasantly surprised by the sincerity you find. Everyone knows whats going on more than we everyone else credit for.