7 Things We Wish We Could Do To Catcallers

It is an experience nearly every woman (and disgustingly, young girls, too) have endured in their lives: the catcall. You’re minding your own business, walking down the street, when a horn blasts into your ear. The engine revs and speeds away. Someone, uninvitedly, makes a comment about your body or your outfit. You’re left dumbfounded and angry. Don’t you wish you could reverse time and do something about this harassment?
Replaying the instance in your head over and over again, you repeat what you would love to say or do to the catcaller to explain your frustrations. You are not a piece of meat—you are a human being with sentiments, dreams and hopes. STOP HONKING YOUR HORN AT ME. DON’T TALK TO ME. DO I LOOK LIKE I ENJOY CONVERSATION OF THIS TYPE?
So, the chronic b*tch face grows stronger than the rays of the sun in the middle of July.
Personally, my favorite response is pretending I only speak Mandarin, but where is the flair in that?
Here’s flair.

1. Screeching like a pterodactyl.

A man rolls down his window as you’re walking, making some obscene comment about your butt. In a perfect world, this wouldn’t happen. But, in a semi-perfect world, the proper response to such harassment would result in you dropping everything that you’re doing and screeching like you’re trying out for the role of “Dinosaur” in the sequel to Jurassic World.
Express exactly how you feel to his crude words and just scream. SCREAM.

2. Climbing on the hood of the Car and banging on it.

If you’re going to slow down your vehicle to make vulgar comments at me, that gives me the right climb on top of your car and pound on it like a set of bongos. Sir, you will now experience the great (read: not great) bongo skills I possess in a drawn-out drum solo starring your crappy motor vehicle.

3. Throwing dog sh*t at them.

I never understood why men insist on honking at women walking, especially when they’re walking a dog with a bag of dog poop in one hand. (LOOK AT MY DOG—HE IS VERY SCARY EVEN THOUGH HE’S EXTREMELY FLUFFY AND RUNNING AWAY.) Wouldn’t it be lovely to slow time down before he can drive away and throw that steaming pile of sh*t at him?
Yes, so unleash your inner softball player and FLING that bag at the a*shole.

4. Interrupting his day with inappropriate theatrics.

It’s a hot day and you just want to go home. Passing through crowds and crowds of people who are as equally sweaty as you are and yet some idiot decides to make a comment about the things he would do to you.
Turn around and grasp this man by the shoulders and fall to your knees, thanking him for his time and attention. Mention how blessed you feel—go all out as this is your Broadway debut. Maybe cry a little. Scream a lot, roll on the ground around him. Keep him there for three hours whilst you laugh maniacally.

5. “Give Me A Smile” and handing them a literal smile.

How many times have we walked onto the street and some strange man tells us to “give them a smile” or asks us “where is the funeral?”
Ladies, take out one of the thousands of Sharpies sitting at the bottom of your bag and walk up to that man and give him a smile—literally. Whip out that Sharpie and adorn him with a new tattoo. Is he in a car? Is nearby his car? Unleash your inner Matisse and demonstrate how to give the world’s biggest smile.

6. “I’d f*ck the sh*t out of that” and provided them with an actual bag of sh*t, skipping step one.

Didn’t your mothers teach you to not swear? You cursed twice, in public, nonetheless, and you’ve engaged the wrong lady.
Why not skip the unwanted f*cking and just provide the man with part two? I mean, do you even realize what you just said, man? You want sh*t, out and about—like, shi*t that’s not in a toilet.
Find your nearest dog, dragging the man with you, and hand him a tote bag of sh*t. THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED—THIS IS WHAT YOU ASKED FOR.

7. Uncomfortable staring.

If a man is tailing after you, repeating “excuse me” and the bright blue headphones on your head aren’t getting the message across, you still have one more option. Turn around to that b*stard and with the biggest smile (I mean, bear your molars), scrunched up face with thirty-thousand double chins (ladies, I know you know how to take a good ugly selfie—this is what you’ve been training for) and just stare at him.
Stare at him until he’s uncomfortable. Stare at him when he walks away. Stare.

At the end of the day, we all know that…

This is the only appropriate form of catcalling.

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