Almost every woman in Austin has a list. Mine includes the guy who hangs out near my office and tells women who walk by, “I know you like to party with a dick in your mouth.” Then there’s the group of men on the Capital Metro Route 2 bus who talked about my anatomy and what they’d like to do with it for six stops. There’s the bros who caught up with me on a scooter, making jokes you might expect about “riding.” Men in cars making “blow job” signals towards me on Congress Avenue as I . . .
