Slime-filled Morning

While walking to the Metro, I was honked at no less than four times. One guy even slowed down to whistle at me.

Oh yeah, papcito, like that’s going to make me want to have your babies.

Upon arriving in Virginia, I headed to the market to get some breakfast, thinking to myself while I waited for the walk signal: The honking never happens in Virginia. Sigh, relief! No honking. Just plain old regular traff–

Car slows down. Beep beep!

Uh . . . fuck you!

I am particularly irked because last night, after working out and seeing that I had lost two more pounds (rawk on!), I went to the deli to pick up a small dinner. This is the same deli that my boyfriend and I frequent, and when I’m with him, no man who works there ever looks at me twice. However, alone, waiting for carry out?

Ogling galore. Smirks. The nasty grunt of appreciation. It’s infuriating because they can afford my boyfriend respect, but not me? I am not game simply because I am unaccompanied—I am not game, ever. The staring and overly-confident smiles do not make me melt at the knees—they make me feel like an object, less than a human being. It is not appreciated, it does not make me feel desirable or beautiful—it makes me realize that I am nothing more than a receptacle for sperm to them. Also? I’m a customer, damnit, act like a professional!

There is only one man in the world who makes me feel desirable or beautiful. Honkers, oglers? If your name is not IP, please step away.

Adding to the morning’s irritation is the man who helps run the cafe here at work. He is obsessed with my co-worker and since I happen to speak Spanish, he basically wants me to be his—surprise!—Pandarus. He gives me the creeps—he is way too old for her, she has told him she’s not interested, and he still insists because he’s obviously convinced that she doesn’t know she wants him. Major discomfort ensues every morning—I cannot get my coffee in peace.

Let me have my caffeine in peace—the result of me going without is not pretty.