Unless you're getting into your Bentley, do not-- I repeat-- DO NOT hit on me and expect me to smile at you... or be in any way courteous. You will get a scowl and quite possibly a digit... my middle one.
For old, flirtatious men in Bentleys: Not only will you receive the above mentioned treatment, but you might get the addition of some verbal abuse. Douchhhhe Bagggggggs.
I don't understand what goes through these men's heads. How do they think that they, some 50+ year old men, can get any sort of positive reaction from (normal) 20-something-year old girls when they try to flirt? How in the hell is that appropriate... or even appealing to anyone? Why not swing that built up... whatever the fuck you're feeling, to a woman closer to your age range? I'm sure they're in much more desperate need of your Neanderthal-esque love overtures than I am.
Are you lonely and you want someone to talk to? Cool. Just don't fucking lick your lips while speaking to me... don't wink at me after saying a word like "pole"... and don't cup your (sometimes not so) imaginary breasts whenever you see me.
I only mention this because for maybe the tenth time, a man much older than my father shamelessly hit on me and my friend (my friend and me?) as we walked out of Target. It was appalling. Made me a little angry because he felt it necessary to get in our face about it. He reached for us (me, because I was closer to his... pedophile-ass) and then proceeded to make hand gestures and all that shit when we walked away. God knows what would have happened if he landed a hand on me. No one touches me... much less a sick ass old man.
I hate old perverts.
That's the last fucking time I wear a Rolling Stones shirt...
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