Earlier this evening during Happy Hour, I had the most unusual and highly-charged political conversation with an inebriated man who described himself as a “Republican” — (he made mention of it repeatedly and did most of the talking while I mostly scowled, recoiled from his too-close for comfort talking, and shook my head). 

I declined to share what political affiliation I’m registered under, because who or how I vote is between me and the polling station and not up for debate with anybody, and I wasn’t interested in engaging him fully (I had one foot out the door). He ranted about his “Republican-ness” and how since he supposedly makes one million dollars a year, voting Republican made perfect sense to him.

Needless to say, the conversation shifted from his drunken political ranting, chest-beating about how great he is due to his being a Republican “business man”, and then quickly disintegrated into lecherous comments about how large and “wonderful” my breasts are. I was thoroughly disgusted and let him know it. He called me “one of those feminist” as if it was an insult.

One thing that’s a constant when it comes to men of *that* ilk… their objectification and reduction of women, to nothing more than their anatomy.