Every morning and afternoon I have a 300m walk between the train station and my office. It’s not unusual for me to be approached 4 or 5 times in a day, over this short distance, by men asking for my number. Recently one of these men told me that “it won’t kill you to talk to me for five minutes”, to which I had to explain that, special and brave as he may feel for approaching me, he’s actually guy number three on this stretch of Voortrekker Road, and if I were to gift five minutes to every dude who thinks he’s entitled to my time it would take me 30 minutes to get to my train every day. I then asked him how he feels when he’s approached by three beggars in a day, to which he responded “harassed”. I told him that in this instance he was the beggar, but instead of wanting just R5 from me, he wants my time, access to my life, and my validation of his fragile ego.
