Gazing impassively ahead as I do, I can still always tell, out of the corner of my eye, when people — men — continue to stare at me, far longer than polite society dictates appropriate to look at someone. Far longer than there is any legitimate reason to. Long enough to make me uncomfortable.
It is like going to a club. Don’t give them direct eye contact (at all) else they’ll assume you are interested and approach. Even if it was just a passing glance to assess the space. I quickly learned the art of a floating glance that never quite landed on a particular face in a club scene (when I was much younger).
Now that I’m over 40, I’m practically invisible and, at times, it is wonderful not to be glared at or catcalled anymore. But now I have a 17-year-old who endures the same bullshit I did — men glaring, yelling, following, threatening, wooing, grabbing themselves, trying to grab her, etc. and I’m sick and disgusted for her. Men old enough to be her dad chasing after her…I mean, what the (and I can’t say this with enough emphasis) actual FUCK guys. Trailing after a teenage girl is gross.