Today’s episode is sponsored by a weird ‘gentleman’ who, from the looks of him, likely has a complex similar to that of George Costanza. It is, of course, not kind to judge someone for their looks and perhaps hypocritical of me given that he went on a tirade about how “fucking ugly” I was, but those same comments don’t motivate me to be an especially good person in response.
The length of this man’s tirade may have been a bit “Extra”, but the sentiments or the fact that it occurred at all are not entirely surprising. It may be the first time this year that someone has yelled at me through their open car window, but this is mostly due to my own activities. Today is the first day in a while that I’ve head into busier parts of town, mostly due to the fact that I’ve achieved an average six miles a day this week, many of those miles spent climbing hills. Today I aimed to complete my goals with another six, cooler weather and wind be damned, but stayed on flat land to appease my griping muscles.
But that people yell out their car windows or from the side of the street is nothing new. They honk, they rev their engines. They make suggestive comments or whistle. Once or twice they tried to trap me with their vehicles. On the other hand, they yell about my appearance and how it is not good enough for them, as if that should matter to me or determine my value as a person. I am too ugly and too fat, usually. I may be climbing hills in the middle of humid summer and my very existence in their line of sight has caused them enough grief to comment, to yell.
In fact, I look forward to those days when the temperature falls below freezing because the sidewalks and street will be cleared, everyone snug inside while I am still walking and bettering myself. It’s part of the same reason why I enjoy walks in the dead of night, as long as I can avoid the drunks around bar close. It’s serene, and disturbances are few and far between.
But I shouldn’t have to change my activities to avoid these negative experiences. My experience, and most others’, indicates that while it’s not only men who do these things, it is the men who participate in these activities with the most menace and the men who are the most likely to do us harm. I haven’t been physically harmed by these people, but that’s not the point, is it? Even if I were offensive to look at, do I not deserve a little dignity? Can people not just leave me the fuck alone?
That’s what gets to me, really. I see people of all sorts of natures, yet never take it upon myself to disturb them by yelling obscenities and insults. I certainly don’t think it’s up to other people to please my sensibilities. I suspect I wrote some similar words last year, so I guess that some things haven’t changed. I do think that are fewer comments than there were when I was younger, so that’s something.
But I’m torn from my thoughts I’m reminded how fucking weird (read: rude) people (read: men) can be when I’m out for a walk and not even compensated with the grim satisfaction of watching those fuckers drive their cars into a lightpost.