Last night, while I was walking towards home, a stranger felt up my derrière.

Thought you misread? Let me rephrase: while I was returning home last night from my weekly trip to Stelios‘ place for our podcast, a random man on a scooter approached me, slowed down, grabbed my bum and drove away.

Here I was, thinking about wireframes and workflows and a Mac app, when suddenly I felt a hand on my ass.

What. The. Fuck.

My first (and only) reaction was shock. I just stood there, totally speechless, and watched him leaving without as much as a shout.

At first I thought I was stupid for not screaming. Then I thought, maybe it was someone I know. But then, I don’t keep grab-yo-bum relationships with anyone apart the boyfriend™, and even he wouldn’t dare to do that in plain sight, while I’m walking alone at night.

Then I realized what happened. And I felt like shit.

Do you know what’s worse? I momentarily felt guilty. I thought – hey, maybe my jeans were hanging too low. Maybe they were too tight. Maybe I moved too much while walking, do I do that really? I must stop it, then, it’s provocative. That stupid female remorse that’s wired in our brains.

I’m not big on feminism and I’ve been quite vocal about it. I think it creates a huge divide between the two genders that’s uncalled for. If we, women, want to be treated as equals, we have to start behaving like we are. The whole thing seems a bit whiney to me.

But one jackass in a motorcycle helmet managed to lessen me and my big mouth to pulp.

That prick.

The subject is touchy. Therefore I won’t tolerate jokes in the comnents. In fact – screw it, I’m closing them off completely for this post only.