Columns » I, Anonymous

I, Anonymous

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Dear beautiful Pearl girl—It was just you and I waiting at the streetcar stop. I kindly asked you for the time. You furrowed your brow, lifted your upper lip, and turned your back to me without answering. As a fat dude, I'm used to every female assuming that all I want to do is rape them. I'll just curl up in the corner and be as un-creepy as possible. You lit your cigarette under the shelter, so I casually walked to the end of the platform, as cig smoke irritates my lungs—at which point I heard what I can only describe as a condescending giggle mixed with a dramatic sigh. Then, as we boarded, we both see one single seat. As I make my way toward it, I hear your heels pacing quickly behind me trying to beat me to it, but you weren't quick enough. As I took my comfy seat, you gave me this look like I'm the worst human to ever live. Sorry—99.9 percent of the time, I offer my seat to women, the elderly, etc. But don't expect chivalry after treating me like I'm less than human. PS: Though I don't look it, I have an eye for designer fashion, as that's my industry. Nice fake LV bag. Really suits you.—Anonymous

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