why do clothes look like that on me. why do i look like that. why does my body look like that. why doesn’t anything look good on me. why can’t i be beautiful
A woman I know was followed home at night.
She didn’t run. She didn’t yell. She laughed at his jokes. Complimented his shoes. Pretended she was flattered by the attention. She gave him her number just to make it home alive. Blocked it the second her door locked behind her. Men call this “leading someone on.” Women call it survival. Men will never fully grasp the calculations women make in real time just to stay alive.