As a precursor to this article, this kind of rant is uncharacteristic of me.

I think that posting a five-paragraph essay on social injustice, current events, etc. to your Facebook page is pretty pointless. Sure, you’ll get a bunch of likes, a few of your close friends will comment things like, “PREACH,” or, “YAAAAAS GIRL,” your grandparents will comment saying how proud they are of you, but in reality, it doesn’t change anyone’s actions. That being said, I don’t expect this to change anyone’s behavior, it’s just a rambling jumble of words. I won't whine about how wrong and objectifying cat-calling is, as there are probably 872 other articles that do that. But hear me out!

Cat-calling is nothing new. It happens to everyone and after some research, apparently it’s been around since about 200 B.C. Over the last few years, I’ve heard it all. But this week, I decided to keep track of just how often it happened, when/where it happened, what I was wearing, etc.

The results:

In four days of walking through the streets of New York City (to/from work and on lunch), I was catcalled 22 times. That’s gross. But being bitter about it won’t help, so most of the time I just chuckle to myself because at this point it’s humorous.

These people — actually, no. These... incredibly large single-celled organisms... are typically perched atop an elaborate throne of a flipped bucket. But if you’re lucky, they might even be in a foldable chair!! Most stick to the finest Shakespearean lines of, “Hey lady,” or, “How you doin?” but here are some of the more creative ones I got this week:

• “I just saw a million dollars,”
• “Oh damn, Barbie! Come here!” (This one came when literally every part of my body was sweating bullets on an 85 degree day with 90% humidity, right after walking out of the gym. So lol.)
• “That’s my wife!!!” (Nope, not quite.)
• “Ay mami! You can make my tacos!”
• “Those eyes are like oceans!”
• “Damn girl why don't my girlfriend look like you?”

As someone who’s pretty introverted, I can't really say that my first instinct upon seeing someone attractive (or anyone with a pulse, it seems) has ever been to shout, “MMM DAT ASS.” But I mean, I wasn't raised in a zoo. So maybe there's the disconnect. But I seriously have a couple questions for these guys:

1. What's your success rate? It's pretty hard to resist the temptation of your romantic, clearly very well-thought-out remarks, so I’d be astonished to find that anybody turns you down. (But seriously, have you ever gotten a date, phone number...even just a plain old positive reaction from this?)

B) WHAT PLEASURE DO YOU DERIVE FROM HAVING WOMEN IGNORE YOU?

The breaking point:

It's pretty easy to let these kinds of things slide off my back. If I respond at all, which is rare, it’s usually some kind of snide remark about how the person most likely live in a shed.

But one day on my walk to the train station, I was the perfect combination of hungry, angry, over-heated, and exhausted. It was the end of a scorching hot week, I was wearing a long sleeved dress, I hadn't eaten in about seven hours, and probably looked like a pretty solid hybrid of a blonde Albert Einstein and The Joker. My meeting that day went longer than expected, so I had to wait another hour for the next train and would miss my workout. (If you know anything about me, this is the perfect recipe for the creation of an absolute monster.)

Then I heard, “Oh damn. Young, tall, blonde, a booty and fancy clothes. You is gonna be important one day,” from a guy who looked as though he probably hadn’t showered since Obama’s inauguration. The look of sheer disgust on my face wasn't even worth hiding.

My conscience fought with itself as I kept walking. “You’re above that, just ignore it.” That is, until I heard, “Alright, don’t gotta ignore me just ‘cause I’m ugly, bitch.”

Without even thinking I stopped dead in my tracks, spun around, and walked right up to him. If this was any sort of cartoon, my body definitely would've been bright red and blowing steam from the ears.

Honestly, I don't even remember exactly what I said. I was kind of just spewing pent up rage. Anyway, it was something along the lines of, “OH YEAH? WELL YOU KNOW WHY I’M GONNA BE IMPORTANT ONE DAY? BECAUSE I DON’T SPEND MY DAYS SITTING ON A F****** BUCKET CONTINUOUSLY BEING IGNORED BY PEOPLE WHO ARE ACTUALLY DOING THINGS WITH THEIR LIVES. AND I’M NOT A BITCH. AND YES, YOU’RE RIGHT, I IGNORED YOU BECAUSE YOU HAVE ABOUT THREE TEETH. ALSO YOU SHOULD PROBABLY SHOWER BECAUSE I SMELLED YOU 20 FEET AGO. REALLY, WHERE’D YOU GET THE BUCKET? I WANT IT FOR MY LIVING ROOM.”

(Keep in mind: I was very, very, VERY hot and hangry.)

….Probably not the approach that Ghandi or Buddha or whoever would advocate.

Was I like, six feet over the line of what's okay as far as how you should treat a stranger? Duh. But so was he. After seeing the look on that guy’s face, though, I don't think he'll be so disrespectful to other people for at least a little while.

By no means am I saying that what I did was right. It's not, and usually I try to be compassionate and understanding. But this one instance was the breaking point of all the weird comments, looks, whistles, etc. over the past few years, and he happened to be the unlucky recipient of my anger that day.

So again, this whole thing might be one big mish-mosh of words. But really, cat-calling shouldn't be a thing and it needs to stop.

Mic drop, sayonara, Elvis has left the building, whatever!!!! Talk to girls the right way!!! Respect is fun!! Woo!!!!