Gentlemen with Class

Yesterday, I went on a simple trip to the dumpster with three Target bags of trash that needed to go out.  I used the front exit of my building, since the doorstop for the rear exit had gone missing and I didn't have my keys.  As I walked across the lawn, I heard a whistle.  I've heard this whistle before.  Last week, when I was helping a friend out by being a model for her photography class, we heard whistles and catcalls.  The source of this flattery came from a few boys-I daren't say men-who live in the apartments across the street.  They were ignored for numerous reasons.  As I was walking back from the dumpster, I heard the whistle yet again and caught a glimpse of my admirer out of the corner of my eye.   It appeared to be the same bull-shouldered individual of diminutive height as the week before, except this time he was holding a baby. A baby.

I've learned to not give males like this any attention or acknowledgment.  When I was younger, they would probably have been given a front row seat to a show starring my middle finger, but I learned quickly that this only egged them on.  Now, I just ignore them.  I always want to go up to them and ask them, "Does that ever work?" Where did the idea get started that women enjoy being "holla'd at".  What percentages of catcalls actually end in easy lays?  I assume that some must, because this behavior persists, but I believe it was Einstein who defined insanity as repeating the same action multiple times and expecting a different result, so maybe not.

The baby was a nice prop, I must say.  Some women melt over babies and might give the baby attention that the guy could vicariously feed his ego through.  However, my logic is this: by holding a baby, he has automatically indicated that he is involved with one of three types of women: a wife, a girlfriend, or a baby mama.  Even if I were single and looking, my classless friend, I do not wish to be the other woman or to tango with any baby mama drama.

In contrast, I had an ottoman to return to Target last week.  The man, I can call this one a man, handling my return and was very courteous, offering me a rain check since my item had been on sale when I bought it.  I politely declined, no middle finger necessary.  As I was leaving, this gentleman said to me, "If you don't mind my saying, you are a very pretty young lady." I didn't mind.  I thanked him and left the store.  I'm not in the business of collecting compliments, but I can accept and enjoy a polite one.  Does that make sense?

Gentlemen, the girls who's pants are worth getting into will not appreciate hoots and hollers, so please, if your only goal is to get in a girl's pants, stop wasting your breath.