dear creepy guy at tea garden who buys hot chocolate and stares at the women who work there,
can you stop, please? you make me very uncomfortable and i was told you weren’t allowed to come here anymore but i have no idea how i would enforce that if it were true. you have a creepy penetrating gaze that makes me want to use a big straw to project tapioca balls into your eye sockets.
dear straight white male co-worker,
please do not laugh off my discomfort. just because you are not affected by the creepy men who frequent tg does not mean that my discomfort is invalid or silly.
did you ching chong me? i may have heard wrong, but whatever it was, it was enough to make me feel like shit and throw me off my game for the rest of the evening.
i’m sorry that i left for my internship early this morning in four inch heels without packing a back-up pair of flats for my 3+ hr night shift at tg. and i’m sorry that by the time i could change you were so used to the heels that it hurt to have flats on and i had to keep wearing the pumps anyway.
i’m sorry i did not wash you today. i know you feel gross but hopefully people mistakened the grease for a healthy, pantene pro-v inspired shine.
tomorrow will be a better day.