Thanks for trying to grope me

J and I went to dinner tonight at Quartino -- SO fun -- and as we were leaving, some hoodlum tried to blatantly grope me at the intersection of State and Ontario.

I say "grope" but he went for an unusual area: my stomach. Now, granted, I had just eaten a lot of gnocchi and downed a carafe of wine, but I don't *think* I looked too pregnant. And even if I did, this was certainly not the sweetly misguided yet overly personal stranger stomach-touch that all preggo ladies despise. This was just awkward.

Anyway, J gets in a cab and I start walking across the street to my apartment. (I know, I'm spoiled.) As I'm walking, I notice I'm about to cross paths with three men who are wearing what I would have called "manpris" had they not also been wearing backwards hats with flat brims and shitty t-shirts. Essentially, they were just wearing shorts a few sizes too big and way too long to acquire any fashion-relation categorization. Hot messes, for sure.

So, I, on the other hand, am wearing a cute but comfy strapless dress, sashaying across the intersection in a happily buzzed haze -- as I remain as I write this -- as I walk to the left of the group, who are all leering at me. I'm still smiling after saying goodbye to J, so, clearly, that was misread as "Please try to grope my stomach awkwardly."

So one did. As I pass on the left, this one jackass reaches out in a bold effort to... well, really, I don't know what the shit he was trying to do. It was almost like a playful stomach pinch, except one of us was NOT playing.

Thanks to my gymnastics-inspired cat-like reflexes, I quickly maneuvered out of his reach as we pass each other. I said, "NO," very loudly as if I were chiding a child who just tried to muddy my Michael Kors pillowcase: very condescendingly and abruptly. (Don't fuck with my Michael Kors.) For good measure, I turn to face this idiot and point my finger at him and shake it in disapproval. Whatevs, I was a little drunk and I'm much happier when I'm drunk, so he was lucky I didn't make a scene. Sober L would have gotten obnoxious and cursed. A lot.

Anyway, he turns as well... and grins. Of course.

Douche.

So, thanks for trying to grope me, ya perv. Now I have another reason to dislike my neighborhood. Tourists, bums and perverts. Ladies and gents, I think we've reached the trifecta.