Dear Man Who Yelled "Nice" At Me on 50th Street Yesterday:I wonder, as I always do when this happens, what did you expect to come of this interaction? You yelled 'NICE!' at me like a villain in a superhero movie after learning his spoils of a dastardly deed. Did you expect me to turn around and bat my eyelashes and thank you? Did you expect me to get down on my knees and beg you to take me home? What exactly comes from yelling at a woman you do not know as she passes by? Do you think we like it? Do you think it makes our day? Do you think we smile as you leave us in your wake, thanking the heavens you yelled at us, giving us a compliment beyond our wildest dreams?Here's what I thought.I was wearing my new favorite dress. I got it earlier this year at Marshall's. It is a Free People dress that was mega cheap and it fits me like a glove. It hugs my curves that I am just beginning to love and is long so I don't have to shave my legs if I don't want to. I've been working to get into better shape and this dress reveals that. It has cute sleeves, it's comfortable, it's a beautiful color and pattern, and I feel fucking gorgeous in it. You took that from me.I questioned if I should wear this dress ever again without a heavy coat over it. Does it show off my ass too much? My hips? It is not revealing in any way (goes up to my neck, short sleeves, hits my ankles) but it is flattering. I am suddenly thinking it is too flattering. I am extremely uncomfortable wearing this dress now. I hate my curves again. I don't want strange men to yell at me about any part of my body and this dress shows off the parts they usually yell about so it has to go. I can't wear this dress any more. I hate this dress. My husband said he was sorry this happened to me. Then he said "I wish it was on tape somewhere." I assured him it was. It was on 50th by Blockheads and those high rise buildings. There are more definitely security cameras everywhere. If anyone watched it, if I reported it, no one would care. That is not being dramatic, that is a fact. He did not touch me or step in my path. He walked by at a fast pace; I hardly saw what he looked like. I know he was short and older, wearing a white shirt. He probably turned to stare at my back as he continued on. If a police officer watched that tape, he might also apologize it happened but there was no crime committed. The man lives to see another day to yell at another woman just walking from work to dinner with a friend.That is our reality.We've had a rough week. We've had a rough century. We've had a rough existence. This is probably the 1000th time I have been catcalled. More often than not, it is when I am wearing the least revealing, least flattering outfit imaginable. It does not matter what we wear. It matters that we are alone or in pairs. My friend and I got catcalled the other day walking to the subway. Again, what did those men expect us to do? Turn around and propose marriage? Take our clothes off right then and there? What is the goal here, I am seriously asking. I shouldn't have to question wearing my favorite dress because I worry it will draw the wrong kind of attention. I shouldn't have to worry about a lot of things like walking home at night or if my phone is charged or how to place my keys in between my fingers. Or just walking a few blocks at 6pm on a weekday. I don't wish to be yelled at, even if you think it is a compliment. It is not. It is verbally damaging. It is an attack. It is wrong. Worst of all, it is normal and commonplace. I muttered 'gross' under my breath as he breezed past me. I should have shouted it. I should have turned around and asked what he wanted and why he thought it was okay to say that to me. The man would have snapped back, saying it was a compliment, perhaps calling me a bitch or a psycho. I know this because I have turned and spoken out and that is what I have gotten. I'm the bitch for defending myself and I can't take a compliment. I should be thankful he noticed me.To all that I say, thank you. Thank you for reminding me why we are fighting so hard. I despise you for letting me doubt myself, my body, my confidence. What you thought was a compliment took me down for a block and a half. But I rose back up because I am a fucking phoenix and your time is up.