At the bus stop. With thumb and middle finger, he flicked my arm, my tricep.
I turned to look. I don’t know him, except by sight. We ride the same bus home some days.
“I thought it would jiggle,” he explained, smirking.
“It didn’t,” I replied. “Now, would you kindly get away from me?”
He backed up a few steps, shaking his head.
Yes, still sputtering enough that I’m only fit for numbered lists.
- The fuck?
- Dudebro, you do not just go around thwapping strangers — in the arm or anywhere else. That stopped being acceptable on the elementary school playground. You are clearly in need of some big boy pants.
- To address your initial wildly inaccurate assumption — Yes, just because my upper arms are larger than one might expect for a woman, it does not, in fact, mean that they are composed predominantly of fat. Fat people can have muscle too.
- Don’t act like I was out of line for telling you to get away after you touched me like I was there for your personal curiosity or amusement. No, not even if I didn’t say “please.”
- I would like to say that the reason I did not use my upper body muscle to physically remove you from my personal space is because I am a fundamentally nonviolent person. In reality, the reason I did not do so is because it almost certainly would have created a situation that would have made me miss my bus.
- The fuck?