La-la-la-la I don’t hear you

Dear drunk guy on the street who called me a hooker at 4pm on a Tuesday,

You have problems that were clear. Anyone working on his second 40 oz in the middle of the day, standing outside in the winter with a friend under a bridge commenting on every passerby has a few issues. If you ask me you should get your eyes checked.

I know sex workers in this city do not look like the “typical” ladies of the night. I just don’t understand how my pony tail, a winter hat, arm warmers, black pea coat, winter boots, and black dress pants looked like I feel into the sex worker category. You even went one step further and asked me how much I would cost…instead of wittily replying I ignored you. For me not to respond took personal restraint, I was proud of myself.

The issue is deeper than you drunk sir, it is a growing problem in this overly friendly and small “city”. See no one taught you people that normal individuals do not talk to strangers. Starting a conversation with someone on the street has no point and can only lead to danger. Yet you appear to think starting a conversation with a young woman walking alone at night is a wise choice. You people have also decided someone wearing headphones is a minor to conversation deterrence, and that they must secretly want to chat. Day after day someone tries to strike up a conversation with me while I am wearing my ipod. STOP!

In conclusion I am not a sex worker, and if you don’t know me, don’t talk to me. If you try to start a conversation with me I will ignore you. Yes, I am being rude but it is my way of forcing you people to grow up.

From your neighbor who was raised not only on the East Coast but also in the era of fear and “stranger danger,”
Eddie