It was a Tuesday, I remember. I was walking down the street, as I tend to do most days of the week. So what was different about this Tuesday? Was it the stranger walking uncomfortably close to me saying, “ooh, girl. Girl, damn!”? No, that also happens on a regular basis (catcallers don’t get a break, you guys. They’re out there every day).
But there was something different about this one. At first I thought his voice was creepy as hell. And I definitely was under the impression that he was being a disgusting jerk, with all the things he was saying to me. Not even to me, but to my ass.
Boy, was I wrong. As I turned the corner I got a glimpse of my follower’s face and…I stopped dead in my tracks. He was charming. His eyes glinted compliments at me.
I asked for his number! I know, it totally goes against all my rules: don’t fall in love with strange guys on the street (only men reading books on the Metro), don’t respond to catcallers, etc.
My friends have met him and yeah, they’re a little confused as to why we’re together. They think he’s a little weird. “Creepy,” was actually the word my roommate used, if you can believe it.
So, that’s my story. I fell in love with my catcaller.