"You're not wearing that." I said, not bothering to lift my nose buried in my laptop, searching for unnecessary things internet has to offer.
The sun is up outside, probably hitting another 33 again for the second time this week. So everyone's either inside their houses, enjoying a cup of ice cream even though thermostat is on level 100, or challenging the sun with an afternoon swim in their infinity pools.
I was initially planning on spending this ridiculously humid afternoon in front of my laptop, reading Marvel or starting a new TV series, but lucky for me my girlfriend decided she have to take the puppy for a walk.
And she's doing it in skimpy shorts and tank top.
"Why." She said, putting on a new pair of trainers she bought the other day.
"Because I said so."
"And that would make me do it?"
I gave her a look, telling her I am not pleased.
Kathryn always comes up with ways to annoy me. The other day she went on meeting with her friends without telling me. Last night she went home too late from a party. Today she wouldn't change into less revealing clothes.
"You're not changing?"
"No."
"What are you trying to do, Kathryn?"
"I'm dressing for the weather, Daniel." She scoffed.
I rolled my eyes. "You're showing too much skin. Men will ogle. And then you'll get catcalled or worst, harassed. Then you'll come home crying."
She took a long breath. Then she tied her left shoelaces twice before sitting beside me.
"Listen to me." She said, her tone imperative.
I set down my laptop in front.
"I am not showing too much skin. There is nothing such as too much skin, Daniel." She said calmly, making air quotations when she said 'too much skin'.
"But men will look, Kathryn!" I sighed. "I'm the only one who's supposed to see that."
She laughed slightly. "Then teach men not to look."
I frowned. "It's better to be safe. Better get dressed decently than be harassed."
She sighed, leaning her head to my chest. "Did you ever got blamed for something you didn't do?"
"Yeah, a lot."
"How did it feel?"
I don't know where this is going, but I kept answering. "It felt shit. It was unfair, I didn't do anything."
"Who is the one at fault in a case of sexual harassment, the person who harassed or the victim?"
"The person who harassed."
She looked up, smiling at me. "Then why are women asked 'what are you wearing' after a case of harassment? Why are women asked to keep their sleeves long? Why are we blaming the victims?"
"Men, women. You and I, we're all equal." She pressed her hand on my chest, just above my heart. "And no, honey. You're not the only one allowed to see me."
She smiled. "I love you, but you don't own me."
We sat there, her stroking our dog, and me smiling at the new wisdom.
I will never know her.
