To the Frenchman who find it absolutely necessary to lude comments as I pass them on the street, please note the following:
I'm sorry that you are sexually frustrated, but what in your culture
makes it OK to bug a gal walking alone? Or waiting for a bus? Or
fucking walking back from the grocery store with my Oreo cookies
during my work day for god's sake! I feel like I need to carry some
brass knuckles in my purse after that guy tried to grab my boob on the
street a couple weeks ago. I mean, how the hell am I supposed to know
if you are just going to keep being verbally abusive or actually whack
me upside the head and drag me away by my hair to ravage me in some side alley?
In a country that's known for its romance and chivalry, do you really find it
absolutely necessary to offer to -whatever- just because I'm walking down the street by myself? I really love it when I can tell you're making comments when I have my headphones on too- do you think that somehow I can hear you, or give a fuck?
Just maybe I'm walking solo because my superfine foxy French boyfriend had a night out with the guys and isn't walking me home from the movies tonight. And I'm
sorry that I live alone, and this necessitates me walking home all by
myself but Mr. Horny French dude, do you talk to your Mother with that
mouth? I mean, pretend I'm your sister for about 3 seconds, do you really NEED to comment on my cleavage (which is not even juicy enough to warrant comment in normal outfits anyhow)?
In Paris in August trust me when I say that I am truly sorry that there is no fucking air-conditioning in this country and I have to wear this little scrap of cloth to work or faint from heat stroke, but that's how life is right now. But please, put your tounge back in that ugly yap of yours and don't BOTHER me! Do not offer me sex. Do not say how much you like my legs/ dress/boobs/hair/face/smile/oddly placed mole/dimple. I don't fucking KNOW you! Do not comment on how nice it is that I got caught in a rainstorm and you can see through my dress a little-I'm wearing underwear and a padded bra you creep, it is not a wet T-shirt contest.
Do I want to WhAt? Oh, really? Hang on, your totally tasteless appeals have won me over. Just because I happen to be walking "unescorted" at this particular moment in time does NOT give you the right to verbally harass me. Go soak your head, you bastard, I'm sweaty and smelly in this tiny dress and want to walk home in peace without hearing any of your shit.
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