Getting catcalled is not a matter of attractiveness, it’s a numbers game. Especially in a city of 8 million, the average woman is bound to get “hollared” at sooner or later.
It becomes then a matter of points for creativity rather than existence or frequency.
I haven’t been the recipient of many catcalls since my tenure at the world’s capital began, but two of my all time favorites included:
“Hey, girl can I send you a text message?”
and
“Hey Cracker! (yelled at someone across the street as I walked in front of them) …oooh, not you- sorry about that!”
This morning however I got the old school traditional woo-woo whistle from the construction workers next to my apartment. And some said they had cleaned up their acts..
So as much as my fellow directors of the vagina monologues would hate me for saying it, at 8am, such a good morning greeting, while totally crass, can be as uplifting as the stale office coffee (it’s not what you want, but it will give you a little boost for a few minutes)
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