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Dr. Nays sleep.

Harper squeezed my arm as we started up the stairs. Dr. Nothing, she said. But her gaze lingered on a middle-aged couple sitting four rows up.

The woman munched on popcorn and the man drank from a soda as they watched the commercials before the show. I stared, but they seemed oblivious to our presence.

Although we'd only been dating for about six months, I felt like I'd known Harper for a decade. She was a terrible liar and she

wore her emotions on her sleeve. So when she said it was nothing I could tell it was

something. I stopped and stared at the couple focusing my attention on the man was he staring at you I asked loudly drawing the man's attention. Stop, Harper said, pulling ineffectually at my arm.

It's okay. It's nothing.

I ignored her, staring down the man until he glanced away.

Dating Harper made me realize just how much shit women had to deal with in their day-to-day lives.

I mean, I had known before that harassment was pretty common, but I had now seen it several times firsthand.

There seemed to be something about Harper that attracted the creeps and weirdos.

She was certainly attractive. That was a big part of it. But she was also slight and

fragile looking. She was delicate and like a flower. Some men had the urge to grab

her and yank her around and smash her to bits in some misguided quest to take her beauty for their own.

On our second date, at a restaurant, I got into it with a man who had touched her as they passed.

Harper had been coming back from the restroom and the man,

a late 30s, ball cap and cargo shorts type,

had just got up from a booth to head toward the restroom.

...