At the rest stop where we got gas on the way home, a man held open the door for me to go in before him. I thought he was being polite, until he said, "come on in, pretty panties" as I passed by him. My "thank you" for holding the door just died in my throat.
I made a beeline for the restroom, which was fortunately at the other side of the building (which had a Subway sandwich area - and which therefore meant there was a second exit to the building on that side). I took that second exit after using the restroom, which was prudent because the Creepy Man emerged from the first door shortly afterward, clearly looking around for me and clearly disappointed to see me already getting into my vehicle. He'd been waiting for me to cross back through the store to go out the original door.
I made a beeline for the restroom, which was fortunately at the other side of the building (which had a Subway sandwich area - and which therefore meant there was a second exit to the building on that side). I took that second exit after using the restroom, which was prudent because the Creepy Man emerged from the first door shortly afterward, clearly looking around for me and clearly disappointed to see me already getting into my vehicle. He'd been waiting for me to cross back through the store to go out the original door.
Lock the doors, please. I said to Beloved Husband.
Ugh.
This is why I won't actually ever go camping by myself: because women can trust No One. There I was, in broad daylight with other people around, fairly modestly dressed (a long sleeved shirt over a tank top and a nearly knee length skort), still the subject of a revolting man's crass comments, and potentially more, if I hadn't been circumspect enough to take an alternate exit.
This is why I won't actually ever go camping by myself: because women can trust No One. There I was, in broad daylight with other people around, fairly modestly dressed (a long sleeved shirt over a tank top and a nearly knee length skort), still the subject of a revolting man's crass comments, and potentially more, if I hadn't been circumspect enough to take an alternate exit.
We are once more reminded: It's not where we are, what we wear, or what we are doing. It's People. Specifically: Men. 99% of Men cannot be trusted.
I need mace. And an apocalypse, in which men meet with ever-so-swift, public retribution for their misogynistic misdeeds, followed by exile amongst their own kind.
I need mace. And an apocalypse, in which men meet with ever-so-swift, public retribution for their misogynistic misdeeds, followed by exile amongst their own kind.
That's a movie I would most definitely watch. With satisfaction.
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