The Inherent #Fail-ness of the Street Holla

If you're a woman living in just about any major metropolitan area, you can always feel it coming. The intent stare. The sudden interruption in speech. The instant onset of Swivel-Head syndrome, with his head swiveling precisely in your direction.

Once you see these three things happen, you already know -- you're about to be subject to the Street Holla.

For the uninitiated, the Street Holla happens when a complete stranger ambushes you on the street and roughly demands politely asks for a moment of time, whether you have a man, or, if he's in a particular rush, just your phone number (your name, he figures, he can always ask about later). The line of reasoning behind a Street Holla-er is always, "Hey, this woman is walking down THIS particular street at THIS particular moment minding her own damn particular business... so she MUST want someone to be completely inconsiderate of her space and time and aggressively insert themselves into her day! Well if someone has to do it, I guess it'll be me!"

The thing about the Street Holla is that it should NEVER. EVER. WORK. The variable elements are too volatile to warrant even thinking that the intended interaction will yield any positive results. In fact, in the entire history of mankind, there's only one "successful" Street Holla on record, and that took place on Bryant Street Northwest in March of 2003. A young man approached a young lady, smiled, politely complimented her on her beauty, and then asked a few questions to garner pertinent information. (You know, her name, her hometown, whether or not she had three baby daddies or was a closeted axe murderer.) After a short but pleasant conversation, the young man then asked the young lady if he could call her sometime, so they could continue getting to know each other. She obliged.

It would eventually turn into the most-incompatible, ill-advised relationship I'd ever, EVER have, and teach me that I'd need to have more in common with a potential suitor than a sidewalk.

Ergo, the chances of a Street Holla actually succeeding with a woman that has some sense of dignity are slimmer than Gary Coleman's credit score. And yet, dudes keep trying. Why, I ask. Why? Your luck is highly unlikely to change, because there are several reasons why the Street Holla is inherently full of #fail.

1.) You don't know me. This is the most obvious reason the street holla is one big-ass roll of the dice. Yeah, I might be cute, but when you walk up to me, do you really know what you're getting into? I could have a stalker problem, an arrest warrant or a collection of shrunken-head dolls. I could be an identity thief or a master of check fraud. I could have a colorful assortment of communicative diseases. The point is, you have no idea. And yet, here you are, trying to establish a relationship with someone who just happens to have on her "good" pair of jeans today. I just might be doing you a favor by turning down your advances. Don't be mad.

2.) You ain't doin' shit. Clearly I'm going somewhere. Hence why I'm walking down the street. And I'm walking fast, which means I'm probably late. So how is it that you have the time to not only just stand there, but to also stop me and try to begin a conversation? Do you not have some business to attend to? Are you off today? Did you call out sick? Are you waiting for a bus? A jitney? What's going on? Why are you standing here? Oh, 'cause you ain't doin' shit. Which brings me to number 3...

3.) You're causing an inconvience. As stated before, most women aren't walking down a street secretly wishing, "Talk to me! Please, someone, stop me mid-gait and interrupt my day!" We're walking down a street because we have a destination to get to, and when you decide to insert yourself in our path, you've just created an obstacle between Point A and Point B. On top of that, since you lack a consideration for others, you have most likely chosen not be polite, but rather to be quite abrasive in your approach. Now not only are we annoyed, but we also have to figure out how to get rid of you.  Quickly, but as carefully as possible, because we don't know whether you might be that one crazy dude to throw bottles or fire shots when we reject your advances. All of this becomes one large inconvenience, and its even more irritating because we have to be fake, smile and be polite to you -- because we'd like to make it to our next destination, and because we're advocates of self-preservation.

4.) Ain't nuttin' going on but the asphalt. I mean seriously. Even if I do choose to be cordial toward you, Strange Stranger Man, the only thing we have in common is that we're both on 14th and S Streets at 4:32 on a Tuesday afternoon. You have no context on me, and I certainly have none on you. And yet you want my number so you can call me and talk about... what? What will we discuss? Your non-productive day or my penchant for Ginsu knives? You pick. Go ahead, I'll wait....

Those are just a few of the reasons why street hollas almost never, eva work. Can you think of any others?