Do you have Robin Hood by the Bag?

Black Christmas was one of the creepiest movies of its time, and not just because it had Andrea Martin in it. It was about a psychopath who made obscene phone calls to sorority sisters unfortunate enough to be left at the dorm over the holidays. Anyone who’s heard these calls knows how unsettling they can be, even if the experience doesn’t culminate in a Saranwrap-encased corpse. I once received such a phone call, a real heavy breather, and thinking it was my boyfriend at the time, upped the ante. In the end, I’m not sure who was the most unnerved.

I’ve never been that attentive over unwanted advances, and usually realize, long after the fact, that someone was trying to harass me. Like that time in the Roman Forum. My boyfriend and I were walking through the ruins when a man said hello to me. It was a rainy day and he was holding an umbrella. I returned his greetings and we walked on. “You know, that guy had his dick hanging out.” Paul said to me. When I turned to look back at him he had vanished, probably thinking the place was going to the dogs. Too many Americans.