Two recent incidents spread two weeks apart:
I was out for my regular hour-long walk around the city, looking nervously in all directions (not at once, I don’t have that many eyes). It was night, so I knew I needed to be especially careful. Suddenly, driving fast, two blonde ladies on a yellow motorcycle yell, “Hiiiiiiiiiii!” simultaneously. I smile proudly to myself, convinced that the pretty women liked me. But despite them being pretty girls crowding on one motorcycle, I was deflated. Girls, again? I would have much rather had a man.
A similar incident occured, like I said, two weeks later. Four girls in a rusted blue vehicle drive steadily by. As they do, they yell in an obviously flirtatious manner, “Heeeeee-eeey…” breaking the word ‘hey’ into two syllables, which was just wrong. I raise my hand as if taking a pledge, my eyes wide, my thoughts frightened into obscurity. Then - a smile. A large grin; I am just that cute…
Surprisingly enough, I have never been called a faggot by passing drivers. It reminds me that I am not as obvious as I would like to be, but also that I fear too much to change my wardrobe to better accentuate my sexuality.
I have been called an “asshole” once. I wasn’t in the best of moods, and I was waiting to cross the street. The only car in the turn lane possessed four personages; three females and a male. They pointed at me, smiling in what I perceived to be an admiring way. I, never one for smiles at random intervals, became taut in the face, conveying a sense of superiority. So it came as no surprise when, while crossing the street (and they turning), they felt the necessity to point out my ass hole.
Aside from that, I have had plenty of honks when not necessary; waves from passerby in cars I could not identify. It makes me feel noticed; special; but I suppose I just delude myself into thinking that people actually like me, simply because I’m there.
Thus concludes my contribution,
~S.P.I.~
