The Next Level of Catcalling: Just Get In Her Cab

taxi.jpgI’m walking home from a bar late on a Friday after watching a basketball game. I walk past two women getting in a taxi. Three drunk guys, about ten feet away from them, conspire amongst themselves, clearly looking in the ladies’ direction. They looked like extras from an SNL sketch about obnoxious New Yorkers: greased up hair, overweight, all wearing Mets jerseys. One guy runs up to the ladies and asks one if he can get in the cab to presumably go home with her.

Flashback: one time I was outside Penn Station in pouring rain. A cab pulled up and thinking it was open, I opened the door, desperate to get out of the storm. I was greeted by the horrified expression and blood curdling scream of the woman sitting in the back seat who probably thought I was going to attack her. I screamed back in response, apologizing for the mistake as I literally ran away. Now, imagine what that woman’s reaction would be if it was near midnight, I was drunk, and I ACTUALLY MEANT TO GET IN THE CAB WITH HER?!?!?!

What kind of reaction can you logically expect from her, Drunk Stranger? “OH GOD, TAKE WHATEVER YOU WANT, JUST DON’T HURT ME…Wait, you’re not robbing me? Oh, phew…okay, get in, let’s go back to my place and hook up. Now that I know you don’t want my wallet, I can relax and trust you completely. You ain’t a mugger? Sex is now on the table.”

Really his only hope is that one of them has a fetish for ridesharing. “Usually I’d tell you to get lost, but there’s something about carpooling that just turns me on. I fap nightly to Google Image search results for ‘HOV lane.’ Now get in, you environmentally responsible tiger you!”

What if she lets him in, they hit it off, and they get married? Is that a story you’ll be proud to tell your kids about how you met? “When your Daddy ripped open my cab door and wedged his foot in it so I couldn’t close it, it was at that moment I knew…he probably wouldn’t assault me.”

This should come as a shock to no one but his request was denied. As she closed the door, the Goombah did not handle it well. Enraged, he banged on the cab’s trunk and yelled, “WHATEVA, YA DUMB BUTTER FACE!” Which was weird, because he looked like a turd doing a Bobby Bacala impression.  He was ugly AND had a bad body. If he were a woman, he’d be a butter-everything.

What was also weird: let’s indulge him for a moment and agree that yes, she was a butter face. You were the one going after her!  Just five seconds ago you were all about going home with her. So what, her rejection now makes her ugly? Your logic doesn’t make sense. Did you just misjudge her? At least include that in your final exclaim: “WHATEVA, YA DUMB BUTTER FACE! IN FACT, YOUR UGLINESS SHOWS NOT ONLY HOW UNATTRACTIVE YOU ARE, BUT ALSO MY POOR JUDGMENT. SO I THINK BOTH OF US CLEARLY HAVE OUR FAULTS. YOU WITH YOUR FACE, I BY MY INABILITY TO ACCURATELY GAUGE THE BEAUTY OF THE WOMEN WHOSE CABS I TRY TO ENTER. I’D LEAVE IT AT JUST SAYING YOU’RE A BUTTER FACE BUT I WANT TO BE FAIR HERE. OKAY…HAVE A GOOD NIGHT.”

This encounter gave me an idea: someone should develop a Minority Report-like process where women can see what a guy would say after being rejected before he hits on her. In some cases, it may work in the guy’s favor. Handling rejection with a smirk, a shrug and a cool “Okay, enjoy your night,” probably makes him seem pretty cool and safe to talk to. Screaming at her that she’s a butter face? I doubt many women take a chance on that guy.

Though to be fair, in this case her mind was probably made up at “he drunkenly tries to barge into my taxi.”



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