Hotness and Hypocrisy

Sometimes I even offend myself. Lately I can not seem to stop ogling women on the street, which is ridiculous because I absolutely hate it when men do that to me. I stare, and I think the kinds of things that men have been calling out at me for ten years. The only difference is that I’m not conspicuous with the staring, and I don’t say what I think out loud. (Although now that I think about it, that is a pretty big difference.) Just the other day, I ended up walking a few steps behind a woman wearing a white skirt that she probably didn’t realize was see-through. She was also wearing a thong. I followed her for two blocks out of my way before I realized that I was being a perv and went home. When did I become a person who objectifies women? I am a woman! It’s not possible to objectify myself!

On the other hand, I very rarely stare at men in the same way, which is odd when you note that I date many many more men than I do women. I just understand men better; they make more sense to me. I’ve always been “one of the guys,” and that tends to lead to relationships even though I’m less attracted to men as a whole. On an individual basis, though . . . it’s a discrepancy I’ve never been fully able to explain. There are certain men who just make me do flips. And unlike women, who can be of any shape or size and attract my attention, these men fit a very specific physical description. They’re almost always slightly unwashed, thin and scruffy, often wearing glasses or a well-broken-in baseball cap. And did I mention scruffy? I have no defenses whatsoever against the scruff. Seeing men like this on the street often makes me stop and gawk. I can’t help it. They’re hot.

I honestly don’t know if my sex-drive is turned up way too high, or if it’s perfectly normal and I’m just not getting it enough.

I’m well aware of the fact that I can be a big fat hypocrite at times. For example, I always complain about the homeless people who sit on the street with a sign begging me for change. I’m not bothered by the fact that they’re homeless, or by the fact that they’re asking for money, but I am bothered by the fact that they feel entitled to my change without working for it. I’ve said before that I wouldn’t care if a person stood on the corner and juggled dead rats for a living so long as he did something, and I stand by that statement.

Now, here comes the hypocrisy: there is a guy who stands outside the Wawa in my neighborhood and holds the doors for everybody, and then asks for change on the way out. Going by my previous comment, I should be all too pleased to throw him a few pennies, but I’m not. He pisses the living shit out of me. I suppose it’s the latent feminist in me, as I always grumble to myself that I can open my own damned doors, but shouldn’t I at least be relieved that he’s at least attempting to work? At any rate, I’ve stopped bringing cash with me to the Wawa and now pay exclusively by debit card, so that I can honestly apologize and tell him that I have no change. I don’t know. As I said, I’m a giant hypocrite. As if the fact that I recognize it somehow makes it better. Whatever.