Wednesday, August 11, 2004

asking for it

the phrase "i like your look" is following me around like a stray dog. yesterday i was approaching CBHQ, when a couple of clean-cut-looking lads came walking along, following behind me. both were wearing little stickers on their utterly unremarkable shirts that indicated they'd just given blood at the bloodmobile parked alongside the building. nevertheless, at least one of them turned out to be objectifying scum wrapped in a civic-minded package. "i like your look," he said. i sighed and scoffed, "yeah, thanks." he seemed confused and sarcastically said, "sorry." "that's ok," i replied, "i'm used to it." i walked on a few more paces, up the steps to the building and hopefully away from them. and then he said, "i have a solution to your problem." i said, "what's that?" he said, "don't dress like that." oooo! a wit. i sneered at him and snapped, "oh, yeah, it's my fault. it is my fault that you can't control yourself. whatever." and then i walked away. great. meet the new potential rapist on the block. oh, he's probably date-raped a few girls already. b/c, you know, they made him do it.

it was already 80 degrees outside, and i was wearing a miniskirt, fishnets, my black lace-up boots, and a t-shirt. why a guy dressed as blandly as he was would "like" this look, i can't imagine. (or, yeah ... i can.) but, again, first he sees me as an object to be admired, and then, when i refuse to be admired, he blames me for drawing attention to myself. i should have asked him, when he said he had a solution to my problem, "what? you're gonna gouge your eyes out? how gallant!" but i ain't that quick on the draw.

honestly, "don't dress like that"? fuck you, little boy. the night before that, i went to the mall. i was wearing jeans, a sleeveless black tuxedo top quite demurely buttoned up, and slingbacks. and still some asshole brushed past me and said, "hel-LO." (the mall wasn't crowded, and there was no need for him to be invading my personal space.) should i not have dressed like that, either? so, mr. blood donor, what should i wear in order to keep men's mouths shut? hmmmm. perhaps brass knuckles, or maybe a sidearm, would do the trick.

this encounter outside the office bothered me all day. when i got home i ranted about it to oosoul. who promptly told me that i should be careful what i say to these people, lest i get "hurt." that really pissed me off, although i know he only said it b/c he worries and he cares about me. and he was thinking, probably, more about the screaming match with backwards-baseball-cap guy outside the parking garage, which could have escalated into something dangerous. (although i still maintain the guy would've been the hurt one, and i would've been the arrested one.) i mean, i didn't raise my voice to the blood-donor guy (and i didn't say anything to the man in the mall). if basically saying "don't talk to me like that" to impudent strangers means i risk bodily injury, make me a martyr. cuz i ain't gonna stop telling these assholes to back up, one way or another.

on the other hand, i have to adjust my attitude, at least enough to slough this stuff off when it's over. carrying yesterday's incident around with me and dumping it on oosoul only created tension b/w us and resentment on his part (although he denies that, but it isn't right for me to make him the proxy paying for the sins of his entire gender. especially since he's sooo not a typical guy). it's unpleasant to be around me when i'm so amped up on rage -- i know, b/c i have to be around it 24/7. i can't tune myself out, or shut myself up.

so i have to call this morning's events progress of some kind. yep, it was the same old scenario: walking to work from the parking garage, crossing the street, a black new mustang zipped by me and a guy leered out of the driver's window. "you're sooooo sexy!!!" i scowled, flipped him off, and kept walking. "no," he shouted back, "seriously!! you are!" i continued on but had to laugh. boys are soooo stupid. (btw, i was wearing jeans, chunky boots, a non-revealing tank top, and my floppy black sun hat. don't dress like that? time to bust out the burka, i guess.) i went up to the office, laughingly told the tale to calendar girl, and then didn't think about it again 'til now.

like i said. progress.

No comments: