When I'm sitting in the park

on my lunch break, savoring the brief half hour reprieve I am allowed, I do not want to talk to you, random middle-aged man. Calling me "cutie" will get you nowhere. Even if I had all the time in the world, not just my precious thirty minutes, I wouldn't care to discuss with you what book I am currently reading. It's no business of yours what I'm reading. It's no business of yours that I'm wearing shorts and sitting in the sun. When I tell you I don't want to talk to you, you have no right to call me uptight. I do not owe you my time or attention simply because you are a man and you called me cute. I don't care what you think of me. But your entitled attitude, which allows you to view me as uptight because I exercise my power of choice as a human being and refuse to smile at you, is disgusting. I wouldn't be surprised if no one's ever called you cute.