Fear of the known

I always said that I'm much more wary of the white men out there than the "scary black guys" who wander about.

I could have chosen to be kidnapped today, but I declined the ride offered me by the middle-aged and well-groomed white guy in the nice, clean, white SUV who thought I was pitiful, I suppose, being a white woman walking in December, oh no.

As if, I told the fellow pedestrian who witnessed it and who laughed at the idiocy too, I'm going to get into his car.

When I say "offered," I mean turned and started driving the wrong way on a one-way street to call out something and then nod, wide-eyed and pointing in the direction we were heading; and when I say "declined," I mean I looked at him like he was crazy to think I was so stupid, scowled, shook my head and mouthed a very bitchy, "No!"

This is the kind of thing you get when you let your hair down, by the way.

(So, when I say that I'll "do anything" for money, now you know that I'm lying : )