“The more I see of men, the more I like dogs.” ~Madame de Staël
I was “Hey baby”-ed on my way into Home Depot. While wearing my man catching outfit of a pink old navy tank top, jeans, flip flops and a look of ‘How the fuck am I suppose do find an Alan wrench in this behemoth?’ In a word; hot.
Oh wait, while I’m at it, I should tally up the number of 'Hey baby's and once overs from the day:
The 40+ year old man who hollered “Hey girl” as I was merging onto a parkway. Then decided to yell at me again while sitting at a stop light, to remind me that I just saw him less than a tenth of a mile back. Just in case I would forget about all the men yelling at me from their car windows while I’m trying to merge. Hey buddy, you look as old as my dad but thanks for the reminder!
The aforementioned man outside Home Depot.
The two gentlemen at the cash register staring at me while I looked for batteries.
The wholly unhelpful sales associate who first stared and 450 minutes later said “Hey girl what you looking for” while I stared with furrowed brow at the display of wrenches.
The man who yelled ‘hey baby’ at me while I was driving out of the Home Depot parking lot.
And finally the gentlemen who deemed it appropriate to give me my final Hey baby of the day, while stopped under an underpass and shoving Cajun fries into my pie hole. Apparently some men find grease and spicy seasoning covering one's lips attractive.
I was afraid to leave my house for the remainder of the day. Because my God, all of that? In less than two hours? On a Sunday? The Lord’s Day? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
Add that to the various truck driving men who feel it completely acceptable to yell at me at 5:45 in the AM while I’m walking to the gym. Also included are the lovely gentlemen who drive the Budweiser truck and the man who does parking enforcement. Note to you two self wanking fuckheads, unless you are giving me free beer and allowing me to park on my street without fear of getting booted respectively. If and only then, are you permitted to 'Hey baby' me all you damn well please.
My face is contorted in a look of dismay, embarrassment (for both myself and these men) and sheer confusion. Nothing about me gives off a vibe of “Oh please, do me. I want you” and yet there are these men who seem to think it is their God given right to yell at me while I’m going about my business. The same men who then have the audacity to get angry when I don't respond. Especially while driving! Merging nonetheless. My apologies, next time I will perk up and drop everything that I am doing to respond to your ever clever summons. It’s not flattering, it’s horrifying and only makes me question exactly how many times you were dropped on your head as a child. Note to self: Invest in a canine post-haste.