On Telling Strange Men that I am Married
Rachel Toliver

Hold on, stop the propaganda for a sec…

First, you’re a good writer. Based on your description, I found your being accosted on the somewhat-isolated bus platform sufficiently unnerving and the nature of your would-be paramour’s advances sufficiently creepy.


You state, “But anyway it isn’t me he’s sorry to. I am a corridor; he projects his sorry through me. Some idea of a guy like him is on the other end.”

I’m not picking on you. I wish I were. I’m not picking on you because this sort of statement shows up ALL THE TIME. Up til this point, you are either describing events or ascribing fairly obvious behavior.


To claim this unknown person of the male persuasion is not sorry to you but rather sorry to another male whom he recognizes as the rightful owner of the property in question (you, the female)… That, soul sister, is a stretch.

I mean, did he relate this (his internal thoughts) to you? Did he verbalize it? Write you a poem? If not, does that mean you are assuming these motivations for “bus platform guy?” I guess it’s possible “bus platform guy” had a mind clouded by these dark prejudices.


Isn’t it more likely he was simply respecting social convention? Like it or not, social convention is currently that men approach attractive, single females in the mating dance of life. (Did you see that? I’m giving you props as being attractive because, really, who would approach an unattractive girl on a bus platform?) :)

Life’s not fair. I’m sure it sucks to have random douchebags approaching you in hopes to procreate and ensure the survival of our species (whether or not you have chosen to engage in the societal and religious convention of marriage).


It also sucks having a group of girls tell you to fuck off when you approach them at a club with a smile and an offer of drinks. Them’s the breaks. Life’s not fair. But women are soft and they smell good. And overall it’s worth a little harsh rejection (to me at least). :)

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