Dear Male Population,
Please don’t ever be that guy again. The guy that makes me want to wear fabric from head to toe so that I know you aren’t checking me out as I walk past. The guy that makes me constantly question your motivations for talking to me because you aren’t looking at my face. When you whistle or honk your horn and scream out your redneck pick up truck window as you drive past, you aren’t flattering me. When you talk to me in Sams Club and tell me that I should bring the contents of my shopping cart to your house tonight and cook you a romantic dinner you think you’re being cute. You’re being a creeper. Don’t be that guy that makes me want to hate guys.
If you want me to feel good about myself, if you truly want to flatter me, respect me.
Thanks.
