This is for the boy who called dibs on me:
I was with my friends, getting ready to go out just like any other night. We were trying on different outfits, fixing the wings on each other’s eyeliner and letting that one friend borrow the bronzer for the 100th time. We girls—we love doing this—it's our little ritual. But boys, you will soon realize that we don't do this for you. We do this for us. We don't spend time getting ready to impress you. Sure, we love looking good and having cute boys notice us. It is flattering when someone compliments you, and it makes us more confident when a boy checks us out. Yet, for some reason, you all think that if we dress nice and do our makeup just right, you decide you want to hook up with us. You think that if we wear something low cut, then we are asking for it. Of course, how silly of us. Thank you, kind sir, for putting your hand on my body, without asking, without me giving you any sign of consent. Thank you for following us around the party, trying to dance closer to us, your sweat and odor becoming more prominent with each side glance at us. Thank you for deciding how my night should go for me, since I’m a girl, and I must be physically attracted to you.
This is not directed to the entire bizarre, yet fascinating male species. No, this is directed to the select few boys, the boys who think that we girls can’t decide for ourselves. This is directed to the boy at the party. This is directed to the boy who sent his friend to tell me not five seconds after entering the basement, that he claimed me. I am not joking, this is a direct quote from said boy’s friend at party: “Hey cutie, my friend over there wanted me to tell you he called dibs on you,” followed by me glancing at the boy to see him smirking and winking at me. This is directed to the boy who thinks that he can get in my pants just because he believes me to be worthy.
I rolled my eyes, told his friend to tell that guy that I was busy and went on to dance with my friends. I should have had a great night, yet instead I was uncomfortable. He kept staring at me, and I felt like I had bugs crawling on my skin every time he gave me that wink.
So, boys, please don't be creepy wink boy. Please don't be the boy who “calls dibs” on a girl, and don't be the boy who encourages his friend to call dibs by being his messenger. Just don't be the boy that gives you all the bad rep. I have met so many amazing people in college, both boys and girls, and I know you outnumber the creepy dib boys, yet their type is out there, at every party, in every class, at every job. Girls aren't out looking good for your enjoyment. We are out looking good to feel good about ourselves and to have fun with our friends...not to be dibbed by some random boy.
xoxo
