Why do guys feel like they can man-handle a pretty girl at a bar? The second I change out of jeans and into a slinky dress the hands start to emerge from the woodwork. It’s disgusting. It’s anger-inducing. Worst of all, the guys always feel like they’re entitled to talk to me, just because they offered to buy me a drink and my vocabulary is as substantial as my chest. Hands off, bone-heads with boners. Inane pick-ups are one thing, but if I get another arm slipped around my waist, or a hand on my neck, I will bite. And not the sexy bite, either. Hm. On second thought, perhaps I will just resort to the old-fashioned classic knee. Some man-handling never goes out of style.
Subway MapSubway Philosophy is about New York, culture, sex, publishing, memories, alcohol, or a combination of the above. Originally taken from drunken musings on the subway, it has evolved into something extraordinarily similar to most young blogs: which is to say, redundant, romantic, and woefully introspective.
Current Subway ReadingWhite Teeth