Dear Eww

To the icky man at the end of my street,

You must know that I detest you. But that has not stopped you from giving me that malicious smile each time I pass by your corner. After weeks of avoiding passing the way that leads to you, i see you again today - your usual shirtless self clacking your teeth with sounds that give me the chills. I could tell that you've missed me because this time you actually blocked my path and stood there motionless and in my face. I wanted to wipe that stupid grin off your face (with a knife maybe?) but all I could do was roll my eyes in the worst way-very unsatisfying. It was a good thing i stopped on my tracks right on time, otherwise we may have bumped heads or God forbid, I should be close enough to smell your breath. You utter something in a language which i of course don't understand but what you said I'm pretty sure will send even more chills down my spine than they already have. You disrupt my lunch time seeing that I cannot avoid you unless i take a long cut and cross the street and cross back again once I've skipped you. But i told myself you shouldn't have that honor of changing my routine just because you were born to think that it is okay to sneer and pass those icky looks at women who were minding their own business. Perhaps i should be more forgiving knowing that maybe it wasn't your fault to be born thinking women shouldn't be respected, but that would be too easily letting you off the hook. Other people have been born in far worse conditions and yet they can be decent human beings. I have to admit that you seem to be a wise businessman, seeing the many customers you have all the time buying your coffee. So if you were smart enough you'd go set aside some of those earnings and buy 1) a shirt and 2) some manners fit for the civilized world, and 3) while you're at it, buy some new teeth from the dentist too. As for me, i am moving on and while you still make my blood boil I take comfort in the fact that in 30 days I will be off this street and away from your mean, indecent ways.

Much love,
The girl who is itching to smack you with her bag
(and you shouldn't be turned on about that)