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Maybe it’s time to bring back my creepshow blog, which I deleted because of last year’s job search. Now that I have a spectacular place of employment, perhaps I can go back to railing on the creepy men who sexually harass/bother young ladies.

Some of you have said I’m too hard on the creepers I encounter. You’ve argued that these guys merely don’t know how to talk to girls and are socially awkward. There’s a huge difference, however, between a quirky individual and an inappropriate one. I’d like to think I can distinguish between the types.

More on creepers later, though.

Yesterday, I went with some colleagues to a fun happy hour called “First Friday,” which is pretty popular among young conservatives. It was the first place I’d been to since college where I’d meet people who had already read my articles and such. It brought me back to my Arizona Daily Wildcat days, when people would come up and say they loved (or loathed!) my opinion columns. Most of the time, it was the former. I’d also like to think that online trolls don’t usually have the balls to tell off their least favorite writers in person. It’s so much easier to trash someone on the Internet, but not face-to-face. Thankfully, there was no negativity last night.

I met with a really funny “wonky” character, so that was interesting. By the way, I just learned the definition of the word “wonk,” which I first heard last August when I moved to D.C. Since then, I’ve tried guessing the meaning to no avail. I assumed it translates to a political person, but that’s not exactly correct.

Thanks to UrbanDictionary, I know the meaning of “wonk”:

An expert in a field, typically someone who is fairly young and very intelligent.

Later on, I went with some friends to see “Something Borrowed,” which is based on the hit chick lit novel by Emily Giffin. I read the book back in college and enjoyed the story in spite of the fact that nearly all the characters are unlikable. Critics said the same thing about the film adaptation. I mean, Ginnifer Goodwin plays the heroine and you can’t help but like her, but her secret lover Dex is
a. too pretty
b. unfaithful to his fiance (Goodwin’s best friend)

The guy to the far right is too much of a pretty boy for my liking!

There are tons of fun movies coming out and I’m kind of sad my mom isn’t in D.C. to see them with me! She loves going out to the theater, so I know she’d want to watch all these news flicks if we lived in the same place. I’ll definitely write up a Mother’s Day blog entry for her tomorrow, although she’s given me specific orders not to write about her publicly. I can’t tell you how many times she’s started our phone calls with, “Do not tweet, blog, Facebook, or share this online, but…” It’s a shame because she’s a riot!

I can never get enough of my mom’s jokes, but I’ve met enough creepers to last a lifetime. Yesterday on the metro, some jerk-off came up to me and said, “I love redheads.” I would have been more likely to respond if he hadn’t been with a group of heckling guys. When I continued to ignore him, the creeper said, “Especially FEMINIST redheads.”

At the very least, this story is funny. I wasn’t laughing later on in the evening, when it was time for me to take a late night metro home.

After parting ways with my buddies, I walked over to the Ballston metro at about 12:45 a.m. Due to track maintenance, the train wouldn’t arrive for a while. I stood alone on the platform staring at my cell phone, which was about to lose all battery power.

Moments later, three sketchy looking guys walked up to me. I tried to look busy, but that didn’t stop them from talking to me.

“Where are you going?” One of them asked.

“In the direction of Vienna,” I said.

“Do you live in Vienna?”

“Yes,” I lied.

“Well, with all the construction on the tracks, it’s going to take a really long time for your metro to arrive,” the guy said.

“Okay,” I replied, looking away.

“You’re going to have to wait 15 minutes, you know,” he said.

When I didn’t respond, he said, “It’s such a long wait.”

They inched closer to me and I panicked. There were other onlookers around, but that didn’t mean much to me.

“Are you sure you want to wait 15 minutes for your train?” the guy asked again. “It’s just such a long time for you to stay here. You can come with us in our cab.”

Oh totally, since I’ve always wanted the Taken experience. Call me paranoid, but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to get into cars with strange men late at night.

After a few more seconds of silence, the dude said, “You could share our taxi. It’s just so long for you to wait here for 15 minutes…”

“Okay, I heard you the first ten times,” I said. “For one, 15 minutes is not an unreasonable waiting period. I don’t care how long I have to stay here, I am not coming with you. Where I am going is of no concern to you, so just stop bringing it up and mind your own business!”

I usually wouldn’t yell at someone like that, but I do out of character things when I’m scared. Maybe it’s my defense mechanism. Luckily, this was enough for the creepers to leave the metro station entirely. I’m not sure where they went, but they were gone within seconds. All the other guys on the platform stared at me in what appeared to be disbelief. Maybe now they can see how hard it is to be a female in this world. I’m not playing the victim here, but there is nothing that infuriates me more than the fact it’s more dangerous to be a woman than man. When I was little, I wished I’d been born a boy simply so I could go out and do all the fun things males do without worrying about sexual harassment, rape, or assault. I would love to travel Europe alone but feel I’m at a disadvantage for my gender. It’s beyond frustrating that females are so much more vulnerable than guys.

On my walk home, one of my drunk male neighbors, who had also been on the metro, jokingly pretended to follow me.

“What are you doing?” I said.

“I’m copying you,” he said, stumbling around.

I got home unscathed, so that’s a relief. With that, I’m off to the “Geeks Shall Inherit the Earth” book signing. Wish me luck!

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