Pussy!

It was growing dark, and though it was a week day, the bars were beginning to pick up business. It was that time of night. A boisterious variety of gay males were clustered outside bar entryways smoking and chatting with friends in their crisp button down shirts and jeans that they probably ironed that morning. I was on my way home after parking my car far up the hill from my apartment (about a mile, in fact)and the bar crowd was in my way. Girls just weren't on their radar, especially quick-paced, wind-cold girls trying to make it home as fast as possible. They were obstacles in the way of my destination, and I was determining how to weave through the bodies without slowing down. I crossed a street and came to a cluster of men on the corner. A few of their friends had just crossed over to the otherside in search of burritos, and they called out to them just as I approached their cluster.
"Pussy!" the friends on the bar side yelled just as I sidled past.
They saw me just as they announced to the world that they found their friends to be a particular fashion of wimps, and a look of sheepishness passed over each one of their faces.
I continued walking, without turning back. But I figured that a scathing look may have behooved their particular choice of vocabulary.