I still remember those words, those words that humiliated me. It was not what she said, but her logic behind it. I must have been extremely sheltered, for her logic simply astounded me. It was my 9th grade year, and there she was, Brittney Schmults, the girl who was more beautiful than the other girl I had a crush on. That day she wore a shirt, for if she didn’t I’m sure my adolescent mind would have been blown, and some sweat pants that had the word “All-Star.” If I remember right, it was a gift for being on the softball team. The rumor was she was horrible at it, but at least she looked great. Anyways, I looked, and not realizing I was talking out loud, said those words, “All-Star.” Now if life was like the movies, she would have taken that as a compliment and she would say thank you and soon we would have gone to the spring dance. But alas, it was not meant to be, for she turned around and slapped me while calling me a “nasty pervert”. In all seriousness, I replied “I thought you wanted me to look, you’re the one walking around with words on your butt.” “You’re not supposed to look,” she exclaimed as she stormed off to the next class, leaving me behind in the spot light of embarrassment. How was I supposed to know? I thought she was silently saying to all the people of the world, “Please, look at my butt.” Let me say, as a guy I will look at almost any woman’s rear, or her cleavage, but it’s a guy thing, that’s what we do. The problem is, apparently, I can get in trouble for doing that. If a girl thinks I’m threatening her safety, whether I am or not, she is encouraged to report me to the authorities. So, out of fear to be called a stalker, I take out-of-the-way routes to class, I end up trying not to follow anyone, and I do my very best not to stare. When it does happen there is a voice in me that says “soon your face will appear on the sex offenders list, and your life will be ruined because she was paranoid”. I feel it is dangerous to be a guy.
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