Perspective Practice - Heidi

 My Perspective

Pennsylvania summers are always sweltering for some reason. After a successful night of bowling, my two friends and I hit up the local Wawa for some refreshing smoothies and snacks. Living in a small town, we were walking everywhere that night. I held my jean jacket around my arm and cradled my strawberry smoothie in the other hand, flicking away condensation from the humidity. My friends and I chat and laugh, recalling old memories as we walked by our old elementary school. The sky, orange and pink striped, emphasized the school’s unique, castle-like structure. We were all 20 somethings now, just soaking in our limited time together during a too short summer break from school. Cars whirred by, slowing down by the school and the local theater which were right across from each other. Funnily enough, the theater was also my old workplace, so I was sandwiched between two of my past lives. Out of nowhere, a car I thought would mean nothing to us slowed down to match our walk. No words were said by these mediocre looking, balding men in their 30s, just grunting and groaning noises while sticking their slimy tongues out at us. Cat calling. Of course. At this moment, I blacked out. “Fuck you! I’ll fuck your mom!” My friends cackled behind me and whooped and cheered, urging me to not back down. “Hey! My mom is a very nice lady!” one of the uglies yelled back. After another round of “fuck you’s,” my friends and I were out of breath from both shock and laughter. I had been catcalled at least 5 times within the past 2 months and I had simply had enough. Although the event was thrilling, I found myself still shaking, afraid that, the next time this happens, I wouldn’t get away unharmed.

Another Perspective

The men were driving down Baltimore Pike with Media as a destination in mind. It was Saturday night, so of course they were headed for the town with the most bustling nightlife in Delco. Having peaked in high school, or maybe college for a few of them, binge drinking is all they cared about. Some of them were even hoping to bring a girl or two home. So why not practice? Traffic suddenly slowed as they hit State Street, where the theater and some castle-like building sat across from one another, and suddenly, they saw them. “Check this out,” one of the men stated confidently. Three females, minding their own business, were walking right there. Wanting to get their attention, he rolled down his window, and not knowing what to say, he just made noises and tried to look as alluring as possible. To his utter shock, the females looked unimpressed, one even angry. “Fuck you! I’ll fuck your mom!” the female with the jean jacket shouted. He did not understand this reaction. Are men not allowed to compliment women anymore? “Hey! My mom is a very nice lady!” He rebutted without thought. His buddies jeered at him, and embarrassed, he rolled the window back up just as the wretched female yelled another “fuck you.” Whatever, he thought. Women never want the nice guys.