Comments ranged anywhere from, 'You're on the wrong arm, sweetie, I wish I could go home with you.
Just last month, at another event, several males propositioned me. But that hasn't stopped the repeated propositions. How mismatched and odd, I thought, we may have looked to some. Here I was, a tall, dark-skinned, thin, twenty-something woman on the arm of a white man in his mid-thirties. I relived the incident in my head over and over again, almost excusing his behavior. To this day, I wonder if he thought I was laying out my price. I hastily walked away while flashing the ring on my left hand, hoping to indicate that I was married.
In my naivete, I asked, 'How much for what?' It wasn't until I looked him in the eye that I understood exactly what he meant.
