Walking home from the train this evening, a someone stretched out a leg as though to trip me. I turned around, to see who the leg belonged to, and the man whose leg it was somewhat lasciviously blew me a kiss. Charming. Who knows what women who aren't clones of Liz Lemon have to put up with in this city.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
The French art of romance
Posted by Phoebe Maltz Bovy at Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Labels: gender studies
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