It starts at the onset of pubescence. The cat-calling, the whistling, the anything-to-get-a-rise low-level harassment guised as flattery. The shit everyone put up with, until the millennials came around rightfully pointed out that it’s a form of sexual harassment.
The worst are the ones that turn belligerent after you pay no attention to them. “What? Can’t take a compliment?” “I said you’re beautiful but your personality is clearly not.” “A smile would be nice!” Or simply, “Bitch.”
Luckily, I no longer get these cat calls on a regular basis–maybe because I now carry an air of untouchable confidence that comes with age. And I’m visibly old. I did, however, experiene a rather unique one the other day.
A car was waiting for a red light as I walked by it.
“Where you going sexy?!”
“Hey lady, turn around! Show us your beautiful face!”
I kept walking away from the car but still was within earshot when I heard:
“That’s why you have no kids.”
And vrooom off they went.