Why I’m not a cat person

I think, in general (and I’m going to get backlash for saying this), men are fairly simple creatures to understand.

Sure, they go through the same, well, similar emotional turmoil women go through, and I’m sure there are plenty of examples of the male species who are deep and tortured and I couldn’t possibly begin to get. But for the most part, figuring out the dudes is not rocket science.

That being said, from time to time I encounter some factor of the masculine brain that simply baffles me. Case in point: the catcall.

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The very nature of the term is absurd: How many cats come when they’re called? And I don’t want to generalize and say that there isn’t a woman alive who enjoys having a total stranger verbally accost her on the street, but for the most part, I think catcalling makes your average girl a little uncomfortable. And more importantly, it is literally the worst way to actually get with a girl.

Think about it. When was the last time a guy in a car honked at a pretty girl and she turned around and said, “I WANT TO GO HOME WITH YOU.”?

I’ve been thinking about this recently because on my new street in Brooklyn, though it’s rather adorable and very, very safe, it’s nearly impossible to get from my doorstep to the corner deli without getting catcalled.

Although according to my roommate Erica’s boyfriend Paul, I get the nicest catcalls of anyone he’s ever heard. Case in point: Last night the three of us went out for a drink and some random guy walking by told me I was beautiful. I ignored it (as virtually every girl would, thus my POINT), but Paul goes, “Wow. That was really…polite for a catcall.” I told him that was pretty standard. I typically get that or some comment on my eyes (which are around the size of your average cartoon deer’s). I guess that is preferable to something truly filthy.

But given the ineffective nature of the catcall, why has it stuck around so long? You’d think at some point men would reach an age where whistles and muttered “compliments” would seem inappropriate.

Not so, according to the man in his sixties who called me “beautiful lady” as I walked to the park this morning.

I know this sounds like I’m bragging, but a catcall is not something you brag about. The difference between a catcall and a legitimate compliment is that a compliment is something especially for another person. A catcall is something especially for anything with a vagina. Besides, you all know compliments just make me uncomfortable.

So, my catcalling fellow humans, what’s the point? Anyone have any insight? Or at the very least, a great catcall story to share?

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