I think I could probably write a book of all the weird things men do or love that make absolutely zero sense to me – farting under the covers, the attraction to girl-on-girl action, and naming body parts (just to name a few).
But what has continued to blow my mind more than anything over the last several years is why men feel the need to hoot and holler things to women on the street. Why do they think it’s socially acceptable to objectify and disrespect women in the guise of — what they think is a — compliment? I’ll be all hot and sweaty, with my hair pulled up in a ratty ponytail, minding my own business while walking the dog down the street… then I’ll feel the presence of a car slowing down beside me. I hear “Hey baby, where you headed?”, “Woot woot”, or perhaps even more puzzling is this sudden-breaking-out-into-a-song thing they love to do. I once ignored an obtrusive catcaller, and was called something along the lines of a “bitch” for doing so. I flipped the guy off. “You’re not immediately interested in me, you must be easy.” Love the logic there.
Has this EVER worked for men? Have there EVER been any successful relationships that have started from this sort of contact? Is there a woman out there that would respond to this with a “Oh hello! I really appreciated the way you so sweetly called out to me from your car. No, I wasn’t aware of how nice my ass looked today, so thanks for pointing it out! Would you like to get a drink?” Are there any statistics on this? If not, can we start keeping statistics on this? I feel like this is something we need to track.
For a middle-aged man to do this while driving alone (probably on his way to deliver his truckload of perishable goodies), is just downright weird. What is the freakin point? You know, I can almost understand or excuse this if it is done by a carload full of young men. Oh ha ha, it’s so funny… and they all laugh and exchange high-fives. To be fair, the cat calling (in my book) has gone done significantly during the past few years. My teenage years to early twenties were the worst. I guess being in a five-year relationship helped, since I rarely have to walk the streets alone nowadays. Not that I’m trying to justify this stuff, because I think it’s wrong. But I am starting to think that maybe it’s something primal…you know, whoever grunts the loudest gets the hottest cavewomen?
Primal or not, it would be awesome if men could control their urge to shout pleasantries while I’m PICKING UP DOG POOP.