The #metoo has been trending and it's given me some thoughts on a night that happened 3 years ago. I was walking downtown when this truck stops and offers me a ride. Two goliaths were cramped in to the rather small cab of the vehicle and I knew without a doubt they would want me sitting between them. Call it some instinct or prescience if you like. I stared at them, trying to see something familiar in their unfamiliar faces. I was confused. I sensed these strangers wanted something from me. There was a dark hunger in their offer that I couldn't identify. In the end I shook my head. Too afraid to speak I moved on my way as instinct took over and pulled me away. Puzzled by these strangers my feet carried me closer to the safety of my home I heard a cry of "Bitch!" And the squeal of tires as the monstrosities moved on. Realization dawned. In the darkness they'd mistaken my ponytail and small frame for that of a woman. Everything clicked in my head. I often give this story a humorous turn because I don't want to admit how frightened I was of those two behomoths. Now is not the time for that. It is the time to tell the truth. That night and several others give me great empathy for women and their stories of harassment. They deal with that every night. So I don't catcall or tell strange women to smile. I mean what if her mother is dying, or she's having a bad day? Doesn't she have the right to look grumpy? Smiling won't erase her pain. Confessing the intimate details of your fantasy life will only scare her. I know I wouldn't want a stranger doing so with me. It'd scare the crap out of me. Suicidegirls has made reflect on how I compliment the women on this site. After all I'm a stranger and no matter how I might wish it weren't so a stranger I will remain.
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