My friend Tracy was bartending, and this guy approached her and said, "hey, I just wanted to tell you that I really don't like your hair." My first thought, upon hearing this was (the obvious) "ASSHOLE!" and my second, as I shared with Tracy, was this: "Well, I think it's good. At least the horrible people in this world are staring to immediatly identify themselves so we don't have to waste lots of precious time that could be spent with really cool, good people." I, for one, appreciate assholes being up front with their asshole-ed-ness. As though they had a tattoo on their forehead or something (incidentally, Tracy has super-hot red hair styled high in the back, with curly wispies down around her ears. It's super-hot).
Tonight, I went to see Floyd and Clea Under the Western Sky at the Goodman. I got all dolled up beforehand (cute dress, lip gloss, the works) and had one of those great moments on the way out the door where you catch yourself in the mirror and think, Yeah! instead of the usual, Good God! I met my friend Amanda for a martini, enjoyed myself at the show, great night, so on and so forth and then--THEN--I caught a cab back to my car and my chit-chat with the cabbie went a little something like this:
HIM: So are you pregnant?
ME: EXCUSE ME?
HIM: I mean you're beautiful, I think pregnancy is beautiful.
ME: (stunnd silence)
HIM: You're not offended, are you?
ME: (a lot offended) A little, actually.
HIM: Why?
ME: Well, usually when you ask a girl if she's pregnant, you're implying that she's got some weight on her.
HIM: I like weight on girls.
ME: Could you turn on the radio, please?
HIM: Are you married?
ME: Could you turn up the volume please?
HIM: So you're not married then. So, you can't be pregnant.
ME: I'm sorry, WHAT?
HIM: you can't be pregnant if you're not married.
At that point, I made a big show of opening my book and ignoring his further attempts at conversation. I thought of my father saying, "Chose your battles." I thought of my mother saying, "Conduct yourself with diginity." I thought of how pretty I'd felt when I left the house and how ... OPPOSITE that I felt just then, even though I KNEW I shouldn't give it a second thought. Comments like that just sit in your mind and fester, like a tumor, like a leech. Even when you're mature and educated and old enough to know better, you smooth your skirt down over your stomach wondering if other people see you as that cabbie does.
Looking back on it now, I wonder if he's simply stupid enough NOT to get that you shouldn't say something like that (especially to someone you're trying to get a tip out of), or if he's puposely cruel. Like maybe that's his thing: single girls get into his cab and he gets his jollies telling them they're fat. The whole Gotta Knock Somebody Down to Build Yourself Up thing, the subconsious back-drop of so much of this world's bullshit.
These guys (they could just as easily be girls. Asshole-ness isn't gender-specific), are they stupid or cruel? And really, which is worse?