I am totally on the fence about whether to be flattered or frustrated by men and their cave man ways. Help me out here. Am I dealing with a true Neandrathal or just a man who loves himself a good specimen of woman?
Walking back into the office from lunch, I am absent mindedly crossing the street when I hear the vaguely familiar sound that my husband makes when trying to get my attention from a distance in a store; the "whooot, woooo" whistle. I glance around thinking that my husband must have stopped by my work for a little lunchtime hey-a and I realize that he is nowhere to be found. There is, however, a younger looking not-so-gentleman-like guy in a dirtyish flannel jacket walking through the alley with a satisfied smirk plastered on his face. He is, mind you, half a block away and not nearly close enough to admire the absolute female sexiness that is me. And in comes my quandry. Do I feel flattered that he has taken a few moments out of his "walk" to send me an apreciative cat call whistle or do I feel frustrated that a man even dare do something that Neandrathal-ic in my presence?
On the flattered side...he could have just seen my amazingly sexy (not!) curves and not being able to help himself from expressing this appreciation to me, his lips pursed into the correct "O" shape (as in, "oh, she's smokin!") and trying to make the "mmmhmmm" sound he accidentally pushed air through instead, thus allowing the "whoooot, woooo" whistle to come chorusing out. However, I am not in this life, quite smokin' enough to be whistled at by anyone other than that which I love (my hubby) because he is completely jaded and biased. So...
On the frustrated side...what made this caveman feel as if it were necessary to assault my ears with his crude whistles, thus interruppting the peacefulness of this wonderous Spring day? What is with men like that? We women are not pieces of meat to be drooled over (no matter how smokin' we are) and you men would do good to remember that. If a woman does not belong on your arm (as in already with your moronic ass), you should not EVER resort to cat calls and whistles. We will just ignore your stupid little butt...at least, I will. However, if that hubby of mine wants to mosey on up behind me and enjoy the big piece of ass that he claims with a little appreciative "mmmmm", I am all for it. The rest of you keep your appreciation of my body to yourselves...and that definitely goes for you Nasty Flannel Jacket Wearing Moron.
Just another little thing in my life that makes me appreciate the finer things (like my husband).
...keep on watching!