Friday, October 26, 2007

Neutral Colors

Last night, I was in line to get a burrito at El Rancho. The guy behind me awkwardly and loudly gruffs: "Hey, you going out tonight?" I spun around, shocked and a little scared, before realizing that he was just trying to talk me up. He invited me to MoJos that night, where he was going to see some funk bands. After all, he told me, he didn't have a job in St Louis, so me may as well drink in Columbia, where he can walk home. He showed me the outfit he'd just bought at the mall and asked if I liked them. He wanted to make sure I liked his "neutral colors." What the fuck.

Later last night, I went to buy a pitcher for me and a couple friends. After I shelled out the money for it, a guy walked up offering to buy my pitcher of Killiens. I corrected him, telling him it was Fat Tire. His face fell, he grunted, and he walked away. Very weird. Why can't he just leave me alone?

Well, hello there

So this is the thing.
People have a hard time understanding why I get frustrated when I get hit on by men. The other night I was out at Shakespere's with the boys when I went to the bar to get a drink. All I wanted was a beer, but the guys at booth behind me had another idea. Two of them came up, trying to talk me up. At first they seemed harmless, asking me where I was from and why I was at Mizzou. Then, they talked about how amazing it was that they were talking to a beautiful girl. They asked to take pictures of me so they could prove it to thier friends. They bought me a shot so they could take my picture.
I took the shot so I could leave without being rude. But first, I tried to get my beer. After all, that's what I wanted...
Instead, the rest of the guys from the booth behind me tried to start talking to me. The first two started pushing them away, telling thier friends that they were "working on it." I was furious and ordered a Boulevard Wheat from the bartender so I could get out of there. One of the guys slammed his hand down on the counter, told the bar tender to disregard my order, and bought another round of shots.
I took the shot and left, citing the bathroom as my excuse. The guy who bought the shot followed me to the bathroom to continue talking to me and to make sure I wasn't ditching them. Once I was inside, I counted to ten and ran back to my friends and my boyfriend, who dont understand why I was frustrated.
After all, they said, I got two free shots. And isn't that what it's all about?

Ive decided to track instances like this when they happen. I'm interested in recording for myself and others how often I am hit on in a way that reduces me to a sex object, ignoring my abilities, personality, competancies and humanity.
Plus, I hope this will keep me from strangling the next ass hole who thinks shoving two shots down my throat means I'll let him shove...something else...