God, straight men. I have had so many good feelings and experiences about you to the point that it is too much to write about. It’s so much. I mean it. You’ve helped to build and shape me. I’ve talked about you so positively so many times with so many people. I have.
But goddamnit. You can’t dance and you always try to finger me on dance floors and you never get it when I try to leave you to dance with my friends and you can’t walk by us and say “Hey sluts” when we’re just trying to get home and you can’t call out at us from your car asking if we need a ride with smirks on your faces and you can’t continue to follow us home you can’t do that. Stop.