If I ever get arrested, it will be for decking one of these people…Milan, Fall 2011
I swore I wouldn’t write a rant on European men, particularly because I was so well warned before coming here, but I’ve felt the urge starting to overwhelm me. So this is an open letter for all you guys, and one girl – don’t you start feeling too smug yet, ladies – that I have felt violated by or otherwise made uncomfortable in the past five months.
This is to you, lady who was in such a hurry to validate her ticket on a tram that was stopped in traffic that she picked me up and moved me:
This is to all you businessmen I’ve met on trains that tell me how young I am but still ask for my number to arrange a dinner date:
This is to you, handsy grandpa. Just because I look like your daughter doesn’t give you the right to try to be my tour guide. Actually, that just adds a whole other dimension I never wanted to think about:
This is especially to you, faceless guy on the metro who whole-handedly squeezed my ass on my way to a new year’s celebration:
This is to you, guys I’ve told that I’ve forgotten my phone number and left my phone in my room because I knew I would never call you or pick up your calls. Every time I empty my jacket pockets and pocketbook, a graveyard of your names and numbers flutters out on receipts:
This is for you, French guy I met on a train platform who asked me out even though I speak less than twenty words of French – and then proceeded to repeat himself with hand gestures because he thought I didn’t understand rather than that I was rejecting him. I guess maybe that one sucked more for you, seeing as you got rejected like five times before I got up and switched seats:
Don’t make me. Please, just don’t. I’ve been such a good girl, and it would be an awful shame for me to go on Santa’s naughty list so soon.
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