In Which I Kick Some Dude’s BMW
First of all, oops.
Second of all, I think this was totally justified. Let me explain.
Evelina, a high school friend from LA, is visiting me for a few days before she goes to New York for a summer program. We’re walking down Charles Street and I’m in the middle of explaining to her how happy I am to live in pretty, friendly Beacon Hill when these two guys in a BMW stop us at our intersection to tell us that we’ve dropped something.
“What did we drop?” we ask repeatedly. They’re unclear. This exchange continues for a while until the passenger says, “You dropped my cock out of your mouth in my bedroom last night.” He then proceeds to make the universal sign for cunnilingus (two fingers held up to the lips with tongue stuck out in between). Evelina makes the very smart decision to walk away. I, on the other hand, walk up to the car, whose passenger rolls up his windows as I approach (manly man that he is), and deliver a firm kick to the passenger door.
Like I said: oops.
Anyway, the driver runs out to inspect the damage (which is probably none since I was wearing a rubber rainboot), they both yell profanities at us, call us fucking bitches, the requisite insults. Then the guy in the passenger seat runs out after us and demands that I give him my “information”. Because after he suggested he lick my pussy, I should be soooo motivated to tell him where I live? “Hell no,” I say. He responds, “Then I’m going to call the police.” I scoff and tell him, “Go ahead.”
Evelina (who later informs me that despite my small foot, it was “a very loud kick”) and I continue walking toward my apartment, which I tell her to pass, because I don’t know if we are still being followed. I call Patrick, inform him I did “a very stupid thing”, and ask him to meet us a few blocks away to walk us home. He does, and now we’re inside the apartment, where we have yet to receive any contact from any BMW owners.
In retrospect, perhaps that kick was a poor choice. In the heat of the moment, however, I was so enraged that I did the one thing I knew would piss them off. I was angry that my picturesque neighborhood, the place where I feel the safest in the entire world, was being invaded by these assholes. I was angry at their sense of entitlement, at their assumption that they could pull this shit (probably on the regular) and not deal with consequences. I was angry because my friends and I get hit on all the time by men who are probably far less wealthy and educated than these guys are and yet, it’s incredibly rare that any of them actually say something as obscene as the dudes in the BMW. I was angry because these men, who likely come from positions of great privilege, ought to know better and they don’t.
I knew that saying something back at them wouldn’t have been equivalent to what they did to me. Because “fuck you” means that you can be a raging misogynistic douchebag and only have to deal with being cursed at. I wanted these guys to know that the next time they pull this sexist bullshit, they might get their car kicked. Or maybe their balls.
Whatever. At the end of it all, I still called my 6’ 2” boyfriend to bail me out of a potentially shitty situation (being followed home), so I don’t exactly feel empowered. I also know that were I in a different unfamiliar neighborhood, I probably would’ve kept walking and bitten my tongue. Kicking a car wouldn’t have even been an option.
Perhaps I should begin carrying mace.
