I consider myself an expert on a few things: sleeping through fire alarms in my dorm room, writing four page essays in thirty minutes or less, eating an entire bag of Reese’s peanut butter cups in ten minutes or less, and successfully hiding from creepy men like you at bars who do not seem to understand the word “no.”
Listen, I don’t know you. I don’t know what your goal was in coming to a College bar that evening, but I do know that you have very greedy hands and your breath smelled like garlic. (Seriously, how hard is it to keep a stick of gum in your pocket?) I don’t know who raised you, but I don’t think that they would be very glad to know that you call women “bitches” with the same mouth you use to kiss your mother on the cheek.
Just like I don’t know you, you don’t know me - but you sure wanted to. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. And you gave me the creeps. You dug one claw into my waist and the other around my throat, as if this dance floor was a Safari and you were a lion on the prowl. So I did what all girls learn to do and opened my eyes wide at my friend across from me, a silent way of saying “Save me.” She pulls me from your grip and I become small. I remember one of my talents, and begin to hide; Hide behind this column, this bouncer, this dancing girl.
You are very good at hide and seek, though. You approach me again, and after telling you “no” for the second time, I conclude that you must have a hearing impediment. Crestfallen, you slink over to a friend of mine and loudly proclaim, “Your friend is a jerk.”
As much as I wish this were an isolated incident, it just isn’t. Just last week, a guy threw his drink on my friend for not wanting to dance with him. The week before, I walked home alone at night and a group of guys yelled “You better be careful!” before laughing as if it was a joke. I bought pepper spray after that night.
So, guy at the bar, I’m not sorry if I bruised your ego because guys like you bruise women like a habit. I’m not sure why you think women were made as a thing for you to use, but it means that I am not allowed to be comfortable in my own body. I refuse to swallow myself whole for the comfort of you, but because this rasp of my voice passes through pink lips, you will never understand.
