Two days ago, I was standing in a smallish town in California, waiting to cross a fairly busy street which was right off the freeway. I was wearing sunglasses, a knee-length A-line skirt, a grey elbow-length t-shirt, and carrying a plastic grocery bag. Not remarkable, certainly not sexy, and definitely not cause for the "You workin'?" comment that was thrown my way by a boy who was perhaps a year or two past half my age. WTF?
Today, I was walking to the store in a tank/halterish black dress that goes to knee-length - bare shoulders and arms, but a high neck with no cleavage (front or side). I was whistled at three separate times (volume and intensity increasing in response to my non-response) as I walked past a house that's less than half a block from where I live. Given my dress, I suppose it was a little less of a WTF, but still... WTF??? I don't know what the proper response really is, but there's got to be something better than feigned ignorance.
I'm tempted to change and go introduce myself to my neighbor, but I'm not sure I really want to make myself known to him - don't want him to think it's a comeon, but definitely do want him to know that he was whistling at a person, not an object. I'm likewise torn about bringing mr. s. with me - will I be depending on his "ownership" of me to get the whistler to apologize, depending on "a man" to keep me safe, or doing the prudent thing by not going to the whistler's house alone? Who knows...
Dinner last night was wood-fired-oven pizza, a basil-infused vodka lemonade, and good company, including a new person who might become a local friend at some point. My mood, unfortunately, careened between pleasant, peckish, and plum-irritated.
I am not taken in by, nor do I feel special when I am finally seated in, restaurants that do not take reservations.
The owner and I got into a little altercation about the nature of chivalry while waiting for the bathroom. He was there first, but decreed that I should go next. I demurred, stating that chivalry goes both ways, and I'd gladly open the door for him if the situation came up. He "won" the argument by stating that as the owner of the restaurant, he couldn't allow me to wait for him, and then leaving before the bathroom opened up. Which was weird, but whatever.
It was only later that I realized what bugged me so much about his faux sacrifice (gender implications notwithstanding). Sure, he let me go first. But to my mind, true chivalry would have been implementing a reservations system so that none of his guests would need to wait for an hour before being seated.
