Deconstructing parry

The hiss, the hoot, the catcall, the whistle, the applause, the foot stamp, the Lord-have-mercy head shake: On the street, New York men are not afraid to express their appreciation of a woman. Loudly. Which made this woman wonder, What the hell? Last week, I walked around the city wearing an oversize shirt—and then something way tighter—to find out why guys who probably don’t talk dirty to their wives feel comfortable calling complete strangers “hot mami.”

First stop: Hell’s Kitchen. After getting told to “back it up and shake it” by one construction worker, I asked if he really, truly wanted a date. He said that he was married, “and just wanted a thank-you or a smile. There’s no need to be stuck-up about it.” He was offering a compliment, he continued, and didn’t mean to make me feel like a neon sign that screamed ride me. “I hate when women don’t appreciate a compliment,” he said. “That’s all I’m doin’, saying, ‘You look so good I can’t help but say it,’ and the least you can do is recognize it.”

When I donned the more revealing attire in the same ’hood, I got a “Girl, look how fine you are with all them curves [Insert teeth-suck here].” I asked the gold-toothed dude, known as Jay, “Do you want me to feel like a steak?” To which he replied, “I want you to have my children, ’cause they would be fine!” Then he said that he was married and that his wife would whoop his ass if we went out.

At least touching was off-limits. The men that I spoke to said that was crossing the line—because I might be someone else’s lady. “And if you’re someone else’s lady, then you’re someone else’s headache,” said another dude. “So if you’re rude or you don’t say thanks, I don’t feel so bad. It reminds me that not only are you someone’s lady, but you probably nag your man, just like my old lady. I don’t want to touch that.”

I think I’m in love.