In which the universe thinks I’m a dude.
[dropcap]L[/dropcap]ast autumn, as I was riding through Whitman campus in the dark, an elderly gentleman spied me and hollered, “Young man! Put a light on that bicycle!”*
When I returned to the bar and told the story, it got a pretty big laugh.
Fast forward a few months. I’m sitting at the bar with two guys having a chat. One gets up to leave, says, “Goodnight, gentlemen,” bows, puts on his coat, and is at least six paces away before he turns around and says, “Oh, shit, you’re not a guy.”
In the past three weeks, I’ve discovered that Google, Hulu, and last.fm all think I’m a guy as well. Not to mention that I haven’t worn a skirt since September.
Make of all that what you will.
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* I have, since then, put four lights on my bicycle.
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Apparently, google thinks I’m a 25-34 year old female. I browse like a chick.
I haven’t worn a skirt since September either … September 1970.
I surf for jewelry and knitting patterns and women’s clothing! Google thinks I’m a man because I’m in IT. Hulu thinks I’m a man because I reject commercials about stupid stuff. Last.fm thinks I’m a man because apparently women don’t listen to jazz, funk, or fusion. WTF, OVER. !!!