April 25, 2005


For some reason, I've been really angry at guys on the street lately. The kind of guys who walk by you and think they are the shit. These guys look me in the eye expecting me to stare back, as if I am drawn inextricably to their sex appeal. They are the kind of guy who walks down the sidewalk at a gait that is only suitable for a person who is busy dominating the world. They are the kind of guy who wear sunglasses when it's not sunny and don't shave their stubble to look more rebellious. Who have non-conformist-hair-cuts and/or pop their collars not because it's fashionable, but because they think it frames and points attention to their gorgeous face. And they can be the guy who thinks a woman/man loves a suit, a handsome briefcase, the appearance that they are wanted and needed at all times.

These fools walk by and you know they think all the women and men walking down the sidewalk and across the street and driving down the street are looking at them, too, like a prime piece of real estate. You know they're thinking, "Why am I just so much better looking than everyone other guy around me?" This kind of guy walks by me on the sidewalk everyday. In San Francisco, in Berkeley. Numbers of them. Everytime I see one looking me in the eye, as if expecting I'd blush as soon as I met his gaze, I want to sock him in the face.

But, who am I to judge? I'm not a mind-reader. They could be musing on the Heidegger or something for all I know. Perhaps I'm just in a strange-man-hating mood. Still, I do get the sneaking suspicion that these men are the kind of guys who really relish in something they perceive to have and own, and it makes me want to prove them wrong. But, when they walk by, all I can do is put on a cold face and stare concentratedly foward.


Anonymous said...

err... when i walk down the street, i tend to just hope that nobody notices me if my fly is down. -___-

Anonymous said...

yeah you go jean, prove them suckers wrong