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A letter to the guy who harassed me from his truck last night
We didn’t have a chance to really talk, you know?
Hi Truck Guy.
Do you remember me? I seemed to make an impression on you.
I woke up out of a sound sleep last night remembering that I had parked my car in the wrong spot, so I got up to move it. I blearily put on yoga pants and sneakers and grabbed my keys. You know how they are about tickets in this town.
On my five-block walk home, I crossed the street. You had the red light, remember? And then — be still my heart — you honked. I thought a traffic accident was brewing, but it was just you expressing yourself at me.
I kept walking because I know how this goes.
“You’re so beautiful, baby. I want to marry you! Yeah, I see you there. <honk> I’m coming for you! Maybe not tonight, but probably tomorrow. Someday I’ll get you! <loud grunt!> So sexy.”
I don’t know if it was the Old Navy yoga pants that I might have put on backwards or the sneakers I pulled on without socks. Maybe it was my messy hair or eye crusties. But something made you think I was looking for a date, I guess. What was it, Mr. Truck?
This moment you initiated reminded me of that time years ago when I was walking home in…
