Today would have been an awesome day. Caecus and I took the afternoon off of final papers and projects and went to the beach. It was so nice out and Flagler beach is really beautiful. We came home and got cleaned up and decided to go to our favorite Mexican place for dinner. I wore a skirt for the first time in about a century, my favorite knee length black skirt with my Doc Martens and this really pretty hazel cami top. I looked nice. Caecus thought so, too. Our neighbors were having a party in the parking lot for some reason. They set up right next to our car, even though we have a very pretty, expansive plot of nice grass about 50 feet away. Whatever.
Dinner was good. Our server was great. We forgot our leftovers but we just laughed it off and came home.
And then I got fucking sexually harassed. I don't mean a whistle or a "Hey, baby!" I mean some guy said, yelled, that he would "bang the hell" out of me. He didn't say "her", though. He said, "that bitch."
"I would bang the hell out of that bitch."
In my gated neighborhood. In front of my home. By someone who is friends with a person I live very close to. It could have BEEN one of my neighbors, I don't know. And everyone laughed.
And it made me feel like complete shit.
Now, I read this post on Feministing:
When the warm weather comes, I always dread to go outside when I wear a dress for the first time and find men cat-call, whistle and - what's worst for me - stare me down as I walk past them. While I should be happy that the sun is finally out and I can wear lighter clothes again, the spring seems to bring the neighborhood sleazies out of hibernation.[Emphasis theirs.]
The New York Times published this gem yesterday about how dresses are becoming out-of-date, in which the author makes a plea for the survival of dresses, not for the comfort or convenience for women, but for all leering men's sakes...
Guess I'll stick to jeans and t-shirts. Maybe it won't be too hot this summer...