I hadn’t been to this gas station since the guy made me his whore. Yeah. Let me tell you about it, and let’s start as objectively as possible. Pretend I didn’t say “whore.” I pulled up to a gas station pump on a sunny fall day and filled my tank. Just as I was about to get back in my car, a man in a boxy old-skool sedan at an adjacent pump rolled his window down. “Miss? I’m disabled, and getting in and out of the car is terribly hard for me. Could you, out of the kindness of your heart, help me out and pump my gas for me?” My reaction at first was annoyance. Some might say intolerance. I might say that.…

+Read more