I'm following some blonde girl in a summer dress down 16th street the other day as she went through a gauntlet of first Hispanic males and then Black males. For an entire half-block, she got nothing but catcalls, come-ons, and other assorted comments thrown her way. While she handled it all with aplomb, I couldn't but help feel bad for her. All she's just trying to do is go the BART station but can't do it without getting harassed the entire way.

I have to admit it, though, that sometimes it's kind of entertaining to watch it happen. It's kind of fun to follow some hot girl as she walks by and just watch the havoc wreaked by sthem as they make their way down the street. Years and years ago, I always walked home with a coworker, a coworker with blonde hair, ruby red lips, and full-on Jessica Rabbit body. It was kind of fun, walking back just a bit behind her, watching all that she left in her wake. Every guy she passed turned to gawk. Every single one. And all the construction guys who we passed all stopped what they were doing to watch her walk by, some even whistling at her. It was automatic- some guy passed her, he stared. And the best part was because I was not the guy who was turning to gawk, but was walking with her. She was with me. Of course, later on she wound up and tore out my poor heart and tore it into millions of itty-bitty pieces (beeyatch), but that's a story for another time.