It was past midnight and I was exhausted. I had worked a double shift that day, and all I wanted to do was fall in to bed and drift away in to a deep sleep, but first, I had to take the trash out.
I looked at the clock, and for a second I hesitated. It’s late, and it’s dark. I shouldn’t be going outside right now. But as quickly as the thought entered my head, I pushed it away. My trash was overflowing and it needed to be taken out.
I slipped on a hoodie, threw my hair up on top of my head, and slipped in to some baggy sweat pants. I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. Thankfully, the dumpster is only 25 ft away from my apartment building, I thought to myself.
Pushing my way through my apartment door, I stepped outside, garbage bag in hand. I set it down for a moment after the wind had nipped at my face. I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head to cover my ears, and then continued down the sidewalk on my short walk to the garbage can. 5 more minutes and I will be in bed.
I was 10 steps from my destination when your car slowed next to me, and pulled off to the side of the road. Your headlights shined bright, causing me to squint my eyes. My heart started to pound in my chest and I could feel my palms begin to sweat, because I just knew.
I quickened my pace, walking right past your rolled down window, refusing to even look in to your eyes. I reached the dumpster and swung the trash bag in to the garbage, but I didn’t turn around. I just stood there, preferring to face the dumpster rather than to face you.
“Hey baby, you shouldn’t be out so late,” you slurred, clearly in no state to be driving.
I dug my teeth in to my bottom lip, and turned around slowly, keeping my gaze locked on the ground. I settled my hand on my phone in the pocket of my sweatshirt and looked down at the buttons quickly dialing 911, but not yet hitting send. I hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but as a woman, you never know. So alas, I begin to walk past you again, my thumb hovering over the green button that would dial the police if need be.
“Did you hear me baby?” you asked, this time, your voice a little more stern. “Give me a smile.”
I sucked in a large gulp of air, forcing my wobbly knees to keep moving forward, and just as I passed your car you thought you’d try one more time.
“I asked you a question, bitch,” you muttered harshly.
My hands balled in to fists and for first time, I wanted to face you and tell you what an asshole you really were, but I didn’t. I forced myself to keep walking, a tiny sliver of relief washing over me now that I had safely passed your car.
“I was only trying to help you out, you stupid whore. Try not being such a bitch next time,” were your final words before you skidded your tires as you pulled back on to the road and drove off.
I ran the rest of the way to my apartment and quickly slammed the door behind me before immediately turning the lock. A shaky breath passed through my lips, and my shoulders deflated in defeat, but then at a sudden realization, a smile tugged at my lips.
You’re a sad guy, aren’t you?
You’re the type of guy who thinks all women owe him something. It killed you I didn’t respond to you, and it absolutely infuriated you that I didn’t even meet your gaze.
You think I’m obligated to talk back to you, because you talked to me, but I’m not.
A woman doesn’t owe you a response because you said hi to her. A woman doesn’t owe you a damn thing.
I didn’t meet your gaze because I didn’t want to. I didn’t respond to your words because I wasn’t your “baby.” And I didn’t smile, because a drunk ass hole was attempting to hit on me while I was just trying to take out the garbage.
So, next time you decided to hit on a woman and she doesn’t respond, leave her the hell alone, and remember she doesn’t have to respond to you because that’s her right, and you can never take that away from her.
One Of The Women You’ve Harassed