Headphones in ears, giant fuckoff bag beside me, and a book open in my lap – all the telltale signs of leave me the hell alone. And yet, I could feel hipster fuckboy’s eyes on me for two stops before he crossed over to sit next to me. It should be noted that my entire end of this conversation was said almost completely deadpan.
“What are you reading?” He asked brightly.
I held up the book. It was Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s We Should All Be Feminists.
“Oh, so you’re a feminist?”
“Yeah, I wasn’t until last year. I thought they were just all feminazis who hated men, but then my ex got me on it. I know it’s about equality now.” His smile still in place, nodding at his own innate genius for figuring out that 2 + 2 = 4.
“Good for you.”
“Yeah, like, we’re all equal…
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