Life is short. So masturbate on the metro. I mean it. Do it. Seriously. Everyone else does. Why wait till you are in your own room? This could be your last train ride. The metro might be rocking with nerve gas before you reach your stop so you may as well squeeze it out one last time.

I just spent the evening tending bar at Civilian Art Project's Fundraiser Gala. I was so excited to take the metro to Chinatown alone and do something with grown-ups. My first job was to cut 28 limes into slivers to place on the lip of drink glasses. Then I got to tend bar with a very nice fellow who I had just met. Between chatting with friends and attendees of the opening, and talking to the fellow bartender, the time slipped away. Suddenly it was after 11:00 pm, and I was on the metro, alone, heading back up the green line.

The train was crowded but there were seats. I needed to sit. I had been standing up running around for 5 hours and I really wanted to sit. I sat next to a man who I might normally opted to not sit with. Ladies have to make quick and dirty assessments about potential threats and my threat radar did chime once. I sat anyway. Two minutes after I sit, in my peripheral vision, I see him rubbing his dick from the outside of his pants. I stare straight ahead. I don't even fucking care. When I get to my stop, he stands up as well. He walks through the station a few steps ahead of me and heads to the escalator that will take us both upstairs to Irving Street.

I typically skip past the folks that stand whether going up or down the escalator. Tonight I don't move. He continues to look down at me. I am guessing he failed to recognize that a short, ghost-white goofball wearing a sleeveless black blouse, black skirt, red socks and running shoes is not hot. Maybe he had a really good imagination.