Tuesday, August 21, 2007

please don't protect me

In case you don't know - and you don't – I am petite, small, tiny, small-boned, possessing an Asian build, and any other word or phrase you can think of to describe a female body that men feel needs protection.

Now, this might be great for most women. Especially for those who’ve dreamed of their white knight or walking down the aisle with big hair in a white poofy dress. However, I have never been accused of being like most women, much less some women (or even a few women, as my mother would lament to you if you’d just let her. Advice to you: don’t let her. Well, unless you just want to eat her cooking, which is kind of understandable, since it can be pretty darn yummy.).

Walking on the street, standing in queues, sitting in the park, heck, pretty much anywhere, anytime I’m minding my own business, I get accosted by men who sense I may need rescuing. From stuff, I guess. General average daily stuff.

Last December, on a Saturday night, I was standing in a queue at Ikea, suffering from a terrible case of the flu. I was sniffling, I was sneezing, I was pasty, I was definitely contagious. I was determined to return a cheapie rug that I had bought for my front hallway that just didn’t do it for me, and the rug was physically propping me up in my state of weakness. Holding my paper number ticket in one hand and a mangy box of Kleenex in the other, I prayed that my number would be called at some point before the employees went to lock the doors (who knew it would be that busy at 9pm on a Saturday night in the winter?! Sadly, we don’t have the sleep-over Ikea of Oslo, Norway. I envy the Norweigans more than anyone in the world right now.).

Well, the first guy tried to get his way in by empathizing with me about being sick. Then he asked me, rapid fire, first if I came here often on a Saturday night, and then if I wanted to go to some New Year’s party with him. I half-feigned a coughing fit in his direction, and I think he suddenly envisioned a rather different New Year’s for himself. He left rather abruptly. The second guy (yes, the second one!) tried to get in by empathizing with me over my bad purchase. After a long story about his quest for just the right bedside lamp, he said, “you really should try looking for a rug at The Brick.” After this indication of impeccable design taste (The Brick??!! For real??!!) , when he asked for my phone number, I feigned hearing my ticket number and hobbled away. Sadly, my number was so far from the one in question that when I approached the Ikea employee I had to feign a lack of English skills in order to maintain any semblance of self respect. And, of course, this made no sense since we’re talking about numbers, which are pretty darn recognizable to English and non-English speakers alike across the globe.

Tonight I experienced a similar incident. I was minding my business, walking home along a major street just after dark. The street was busy as always with people walking home from shopping or going out downtown to a bar. I heard someone yelling behind me, “excuse me, excuse me.” Since it wasn’t a voice I recognized, I kept walking. The yelling continued, and then suddenly a strange man was walking along beside me. “Excuse me,” he said, and then asked if this was the street everyone else knew it was. We were smack dab at a street corner, so I looked up and pointed at the sign. Silence. Since he seemed to have nothing further to say, I resumed walking. “Do you know this area well?” he asked, following. I said yes, and slowed down, thinking that he wanted further directions. “I’m new here,” he said. “Maybe you’ll have a drink with me?” I politely declined and then recommenced walking yet again. He then ran after me again and asked why not.

WHY NOT??!! So freaky guy yells at me in the dark, then, when I show absolutely zero interest, walks along beside me and asks questions to which he already knows the answer, and then actually feels the need to ask me why I don’t care to sit alone with him over a drink.

Does this kind of stuff work on other women who are also petite, small, tiny, small-boned, possessing an Asian build? If so, I feel that I should never meet these women.



SunnyShine note: Since most men are gamblers, they are probably playing the odds. If they ask 100 women, 1 is bound to say yes. I believe this must be built into their DNA. The real question though is not whether this works on petite women, it's whether it works on any women. The answer to that question has to be yes. Who are these women? Also, I find it amusing that everyone now thinks you are Asian - you may or may not be but I'm not telling.

No comments: