I feel his breath on my neck. I shift position, so that his thigh isn't pressed against mine. His arm is raised, grasping the rubber grip handing from the ceiling. As the bus circles the hillside, we tilt slightly, I grip the floor with my feet, close to falling into the circle of his arms.
At least the guy behind me is cute. An old and entirely unappealing man stands in front of me. Bulging out in every direction. Wearing an old pair of pants that keeps slipping down. We are close enough for me to count the bristles on his chin. As the bus comes to a sudden halt, he falls back into me.
Cut. Take 2.
"So tell me, don't datiyot have boy friends?"
"Chamuda, you're not looking for a boy friend?"
"We could have a lot of fun together you know."
"That's the address. Thanks."
I give him the fare and get out, slamming the cab door behind me.
And the list can go on and on.
Did you know that it's not modest for women to drive? Women attract too much attention behind the wheel.
Plus if women learned to drive, they won't need men to drive them. That's not a good idea. Women should rely on men for all things in life, aside from Chas VeChalila earning a living.
Buses and Cabs are a much more Tznius way of getting around for a frum girl.
Heck, even hitchhiking, why not?
1 week ago