The subject line here is meant to be read with some humor of course, but I really am pretty much shaking my head in disbelief at men right now - well, the ones like the ones I just met at Arby's. One is trying to take my hand so he can TELL HIS WIFE about my nail polish. Um.
And the other one is staring so obviously at my chest (not a constant occurrence for me, frankly, but nonetheless irksome) I would not be able to identify his face in a lineup, because it was so resolutely pointed downward.
I mean, good grief. I'm not a twenty year old twinkie in hot pants here. And these guys were definitely not youngsters themselves.
Isn't there some point at which restraint, or at least its facsimile, becomes a necessary learned trait?
Good. Grief.
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