“May I have a key to your restroom?” I asked this to the Shell clerk one day en route to a run in the park, while clad in Puma jogging tights. “It’s outside,” he responded. To my vagina. (“That’s two floors above where you’re at, dear.”) He didn’t even try to avert his eyes. It was almost like it was deliberate. Now, while the man in that little IRL anecdote.. Read More