Tuesday, July 8, 2003
He undressed me with his eyes at a gas station
This morning, I stopped at a gas station for, well, gas and a delicious c-store breakfast. I don't have to dress up for work, so I don't. It's usually jeans and a t-shirt. Today, it's not even a terribly clean shirt, I noticed after I was already at work. But anyway.
Here I was, at 7:30am, buying gas, not looking at all sexy in my dirty t-shirt. I walked in to pick out a diet soda and a shwag-ass c-store sandwich (I love them so) and there was a guy standing near the door, not doing anything but standing there. I walked in and he stared directly at my boobs and said, "Hey, how you doing?"
I didn't answer. Obviously, because he was talking to my breasts, not to me.
He didn't even look at my face first and then scan quickly down to my boobs. His eyes went straight to the boobs. Anything female likely receives the same treatment from him on a regular basis. It reminded me of a time when I had to walk along a rather busy street when I lived in Raleigh to get home from work. Even during the winter when I had on a huge, kind of ugly, men's winter coat, guys would still drive by and honk and whistle and yell, "Hey bay-bee!". One guy even pulled into the condo complex where I was living to say something clever like, "Hey sexy. What's your name?" I asked him if that tactic normally worked for him. His expression went blank. I walked off. Hell, maybe it does normally work for him. But for me, a cat call from some guy driving by in a booger green malibu is just not going to get me going. Yes yes. Perhaps I'm being unreasonable.