It’s not a compliment, it’s insulting.
Originally posted at auromheim.net

Yesterday was the annual Easter Rock in my home town, a night of mini-concerts by local bands. It had the potential of being a lot of fun, and it was in the beginning - the vorspiel* and the first concerts. I only drank a couple of beers at the vorspiel, and so became pretty sober after a short while. I soon also got very tired, because I had just come home from a two-day road-trip to Eastern Norway and Sweden.

The rest of the crowd got drunker, and during the latter half of the evening I was trod on, pushed and spilled beer on. I usually wouldn’t be too bothered by it, but I was tired, and when random men decided they were allowed to fondle me, all the fun went out of the evening. I don’t care how drunk you are, what the hell makes you think it’s OK to stroke the arms or pinch the bottom of a girl you don’t know?

It was made worse by the fact that I knew it wouldn’t have happened had my boyfriend been there. Girls should be able to go out partying without a chaperone, for fuck’s sake! It’s not 1950.

* = drinking in someone’s home prior to going out