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Dear Drunk Men On The Street: I’m Not Telling You Where I’m Going Tonight

There are two states of being for me as I walk through the city on a night out.

Either I’m giddily happy, the gin and tonics I so enjoy sipping on fueling my energy and my never-ending quest for a slice (or four) of pizza; that, or I’m cynical and pissed, scowling at everyone stumbling around me, convinced there are no more decent men left in this world.

Call me a pessimist, but it’s usually the latter.


I understand that when people go out, everyone’s trying to have fun. We just want to dance and let loose, maybe meet other people. I get it. But for the love of all things that are good and holy – drunk men on the street, stop cutting into my path to ask me where I’m going at the end of the night. Stop going out of your way to approach me, demanding to know my next move; stop following me when I try to walk away. Your seemingly simple and well-intentioned question is actually pretty f*cking creepy.

I’ll start by saying this: it is absolutely none of your business where I am going. Do you really think I want an intoxicated stranger following me to the next bar or to my house, just so he can maybe try his luck at getting into my pants that night?

And for those of you who will argue that not every guy is out there looking for a hookup – when was the last time you stopped a girl on the street just because you wanted to make a new friend?

You must think pretty highly of yourself if you believe a girl you first laid eyes on three seconds ago is going to trust you with the details of her location. Because what screams “I’m a catch” better than placing a hand on the hip of a total stranger, steering her off her path and wondering where you might be seeing her next? Seeing a woman walking around at night does not entitle you to knowing where she’s going. If you think it does, well, I have news for you: you are a douchebag of monumental proportions.

For the women reading this article: by all means, if this ever happens to you, call the dude out. Make him aware that he is, in fact, being a douchebag, and that his advances are uncalled for and inappropriate. Don’t just giggle and walk away. Otherwise, the status quo will never change.

There’s a difference between asking someone you’ve been talking to at a bar and a random stranger on the street where they’re going next. If we’ve been chatting, there’s a chance I’m enjoying hanging out with you. I’d say it’s cool to inquire where I’m off to next if we’re hitting it off. But for you to go out of your way, to stop me in my tracks, to get uncomfortably close to me and try to follow me? It only shows that you view me as a pretty little object, something that you can nag and chase and try your luck at picking up.

And so, dear drunk men on the street, I won’t be telling you where I’m going tonight. Chances are, I’m off to stuff my face at the nearest pizza place that’s open – and I’m perfectly capable of doing that without you.

I like iced coffee, red lipstick, good books, short runs, Korean rap, big dogs, warm weather, funny people and cheese. Lots and lots of cheese. Writing is fun too, I guess.  Find me on Twitter: [at]cseiter17. 
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