Anatomy of a Catcall

Translation: why men are evolutionarily inferior to women.

I’d like to start off by stating- yes, I do believe women are superior to men. But without them, who would reach the stuff on the high shelves? I don’t keep a ladder handy.

Any man who’d like to argue this idea with me- your point is moot, because:

a. You can’t give birth
b. You can’t walk in 6 inch heels (unless you’re a drag queen and in which case I group you with us)
c. You’re less likely to graduate from college than a woman
d. Your life span is shorter (this may or may not be attributed to the fact that you suck at the aforementioned points)

I dare any straight man to argue point b with me and still try to prove you’re the superior one.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I’d like to mention while I’m a “hater” it’s usually because men have provided me with excellent reasons to “hate” …but you’re not all evil or philandering jerks. One day I promise to blog about how there are certain things you can do better than us (like get sacked by a 300 lb defensive lineman or pee standing).

I digress…yesterday I was walking through the parking lot at the local grocery store, and a minivan (oh baby, nothing says hot like a loser cruiser) with some rather interesting/woodtick looking men in it all started whistling and hollering in my direction.

I consider myself to be a moderately attractive woman, meaning even on my worst day I know I look better than Lindsay Lohan.

Anyhow, this got me thinking- what in the world do men expect to happen after they Catcall a woman? Cause guys, I gotta tell you, the kind of woman whose loins burn after being whistled at from across a seedy parking lot is probably not the girl you want to bring home to Momma. Generally I’d pinpoint her as the woman you’d like to steer clear of unless you often wonder about the joys of herpes (I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess genital warts are really NOT that joyful).

Unless of course, you aren’t looking for a woman of high caliber, in which case, whistle on you egg-headed horndog, whistle on.

I’m suspecting if I had approached said van full ‘o hosers, they would’ve either:

a. Rolled up the windows and been too big of a pansy to speak with me.
b. Thrown me a cheesy pick up line like “Did you have lucky charms for breakfast? Because you look magically delicious,” in which case…
c. You wouldn’t be reading this blog because I’d be in jail for assault.

I do have to wonder the efficiency of Catcalling. I’ve never heard of a couple falling madly in love after the man so “dashingly” whistled her way as she stomped past him on her way to work, coffee in hand, poised to be thrown in his face…but instead his act of romanticism swept her and her Starbucks off their feet.

Or imagine the E-harmony ad. ‘Well, Steve completely degraded me when we first met with a catcall, and then I just KNEW he was the one…we’ve been married for a year and he only has three mistresses. It was fate.’ Ahh, true love.

So in conclusion, men- want to impress a woman? How ‘bout ya open the door for her instead of yelling “hey baby nice cans,” in front of your 6 year old son. But if that’s asking too much, perhaps your wife should do the rest of us a favor and not let you leave the house unsupervised. Just a thought.

I'm thinking I might need to start animating some of my blogs. Because the mental image I have of my final points A-C are epictastical.

P.S. I’ve never met a jar I can’t open on my own…sometimes I like to give a guy a freebie morale boost and ask him to open something for me. I’m not completely evil.