Thank you, gentleman on the street. Today felt boring, normal, and then you said, “Damn, that booty!” and I knew I put on the right pair of pants. I know it looks like I’m picking up my pace to get away from you, but inside I’m smiling, glowing, so glad you noticed my back-end.
Thank you, gentleman outside the coffee shop, for rubbing your hand against mine and whispering in my ear, “You need a big man?” What an offer! Your mother must have loved you so much, you grew up to be such a confident, precocious man.
Thank you, gentleman on the subway. Thank you for licking your lips while sitting caddy-corner from me. Your oral compliment is magnified by your impressive three-hundred pound physique. Why did I choose that seat? Why did I sit so close to you? You know deep down I was just hoping, praying, that on my way out you’d say, “Looking real hot today, girl.” That was fun.
Thank you, gentleman on the other side of traffic. Many would consider such range too far for a compliment, but you picked up your voice and shouted across the avenue, “Hey, big sexy!” Oh, thank you. A big thank you.
Thank you, catcalling gentleman of New York! Thank you for gracing we women with your abrasive compliments. Thank you for touches that are inappropriate and uncomfortable, but not quite crimes (you’re smooth like that). Thank you for standing too close on the subway – it lets us know we’re doing something right with what God and Mama gave us. Thank you for showing us how to feel pretty and scared at the same time. You know, we’re prettiest while scared.
Thank you, gentlemen. From all of us, thank you.
But seriously, does this dress look good on me? It does? Oh, thank you.
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