It’s summertime. Time for summer dresses, flirty skirts, short shorts and spaghetti straps _ it’s hot and skin is in. And so come the catcalls. Not just from construction workers on scaffolding or cabbies whizzing by, but from bums to businessmen walking the streets.

Not that I run around Chicago naked, or even half naked, it’s just that it’s summertime in the city and as long as you are wearing anything less than a burqa, you’re going to get catcalled. I understand this, I don’t … Read more ...