So, ok. I’ll admit it. I have this crazy double standard when it comes to cat-calling. When guys do it to me I get a little defensive. One time, when walking into best buy, some older man zeroed into my cleavage like a moth to an excessively powerful bug zapper. After fighting off his intentions for a romantic drive-by motor boating (and leaving him howling in agony on the ground) I gave him my “your mother taught you better than that” speach, I walked into the store and bought some anime a new iPod to make myself feel better.
This, I don’t feel is ok. Unless you’re hot. And you make it very clear that you want me, by drunkenly winking at me from across the crowded bar, even though I’m so drunk I forgot how to take a shot. Then it’s you, me, and a disappointing quickie the broom closet, baby.
Regardless, I feel that it is more than fine for me to sexually harass any man within my range of vision. (This includes spying on people from opposite high rise apartment buildings with binoculars.)
Case and point: When I was pulling into my garage for work this morning, I had to stop to let someone maneuver two heavy gas canisters out of the way before i could pull in. I was tired, I was cranky, and dammit, I hadn’t had caffeine yet, so I was ready to say something smart about the fact that he had to use the entrance to exit, when he looked up. Y. U. M. He had scuffed work boots, those nice wranglers, that so perfectly cup certain portions of the male anatomy, and tattoos–and good ones at that–covered the nicely formed muscles of his arms. And then there was his face! A sexy stubble of beard was brewing along his lovely square jaw, and a pair of equally enticing green eyes looked back at me with interest. Probably over the fact that he had been out of my way for at least a minute before I could tear myself away from his body to look at his face. So I smiled, grinned actually, and said “Good Morning” in my best phone sex operator voice, and leaned out the window, ignoring the line of cars behind me.
I LOVE making men blush!
Yeah, we’re sorta okay with any kind of harassment. In fact, we’ll usually ask for it. Leering guy – creepy; leering lady – sexy. I don’t know math, but I know that’s how the equation works out.
that math’s a bit to complex for me to understand, but I think it makes me come out clean and shiny. so, I’ll agree.