1. I actually had a man call me “addicting” once, and he meant it as a compliment.
2. Last weekend I found myself in a rather awkward situation. I attended a show where a couple of my friends were playing (in separate acts), and one of the bands brought every one of their damn significant others. I’ll spare you the bulk of my irritation hence I veer from my point, but here is the pertinent info. All of these women were sporting trendy layered, side-parted hair and neo-seventies, plunging blouses. I, on the other hand, came striding into the room clad in black leather pants, a white wifebeater, fushcia stiletto boots and a black sweater duster. Despite the fact I know the guys in this band, and I even have a passing acquaintance with one of the aforementioned girlfriends, not ONE of them spoke to me. While I was easily chatting with my other friend and his bassplayer, the girls made no secret of exchanging glances and whispering to each other. These were adults, People, not fourteen year olds. The boys, on the other hand, refused eye contact. And why? Out of fear their S.O’s would know that deep in the recesses of their minds, hearts and crotches, they really wished their girls looked more like me.