Yesterday on the subway, a young lady stepped onto my car and started hovering over me. She picked her target well. I could feel her eyes gazing at me, attempting to invoke some unspoken social code of convenience, and for a moment I considered relinquishing my seat to her...

for just a moment though.

How can I honestly support the equality of the sexes and allow this girl to sit in my place? Look at her, with her hip Soho shoes and her faux-nerd glasses. She's got her faux-nerd haircut pinned back here and there with cute little silver clips in some sort of attempt at librarian-chiq.

I like them nerdy, especially when they're faking it.

She's probably spent her entire day at a desk, pounding at keys and answering phones. I'm sure her daily exercise consists of moving her body between the pisser and the coffee machine. Sure, maybe her wrists are tired...but so's my rump and it wants this seat more then her hands do.

I spent my day on hovering over a lighting console. Her chair was probably padded and upholstered, mine was an applebox. I got a splinter in my ass today. Does she have a splinter in her ass?

I doubt it.

She's probably got a shelf of Nabokov, Proust, and Woodhouse back in her apartment, and I'm sure she thinks Ani Difranco is really keen. I smell bad and my knees hurt, and I'm not too fond of anyone right now.

So, I pretend that I'm making a stand against my internal gentleman, and that it has nothing to do with her resemblance to my ex-girlfriend.

Sorry nerdy chick, you're just going to have to stand. Next time wear some sensible shoes.