the Whistle

Today I am pouring myself a sweet glass of Captain Morgan Perfect Stock and Coke and venting ever so slightly. Here’s the thing gentleman and I’m going to try to say it as plainly as I possible can.

Do Not, you may have missed that bit, DO NOT Whistle at me. I am not a piece of ass that you can claim. I am not easy to get girl whose knees crumble as soon as you treat her cheap. I am a hard working woman that thrives for success and demands respect. YOU do not have the right, again you may have missed that bit, YOU do not HAVE THE RIGHT, to treat me like an animal you have some claim over.

After this disgusting display of manhood I wanted to binge eat chips and reduce my property value. I shouldn’t have to wish ugliness or weight onto myself so that men will leave me alone. Men should just leave me alone.

If you want to compliment me please use your words. Tell me that I’m beautiful. Tell me that you admire my ambition or intellect. Tell me you aspire to have my motivation. But DO NOT, whistle at me like a dog.

I am a human being not an animal. I am a partner not property.

I’m a cool fucking cat again cat calls.

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