femme ou homme?

Got off work last night and went to the bar with some friends. Was standing outside smoking when this semi-attractive, tall cartoon of a French man came up to me. He asked me for a dollar to give to a homeless man, a homeless man I know and have seen for years who is always high. He said the dollar was for some kind of medicine or something, I don't remember. I didn't have a dollar on me but even if I did, my answer still would have been "No." The Frenchman then began to tumble down a verble decline of a rant about Americans and greediness, rudeness, and unawareness. Halfway through his short episode, he paused and gave me a look I have seen many times in my life. It's usually always a look given from men - attractive men, ugly men, short men, tall men, left men, right men, artist men, and banker men. It's a look of confusion mixed with attraction and then like quicksand, turns into anger and frustration. The world's volume dials down and my hearing focuses solely on the words that are about to come out of the man's mouth. The man holds my attention hostage and I want to run away but also know that he should be the one running. He looks me in my eyes and his mouth begins to open, and this particular man looked to his otherFrench atrocities and he says, in English, Are yew boy or girl?  My brain snapped and suddenly my anger quickly becomes fear and then into sadness and back to anger in a matter of seconds.Why must I answer these questions? I don't remember what I said in return, it wasn't an answer but it definately did not make him happy. So then he proceeded to say, Euu, come on man, why do you half tew be sew boring? I walked away and let the words boil inside for a moment and then the fever passed but his words echoed many times in my head making it hard for me to engage in conversation. I sat inside, talking to some friends and not really listening. Just his entitled lips, spewing words I have heard too many times. A question I am tired of answering. A question I get thrown at me when I least expect it. At the grocery store, at the bar, by customers at work, always in airport security where I'll then be pulled aside and touched till they find the "truth". In bathrooms, the worst place of all to be asked this question, is especially a strife. I've been catapulted by strangers between bathrooms to the point where I just hold it in and try and find the "family restroom". 

I went back outside for a cigarette and he was outside still with his French exhibitionists, and when he saw me, he taps one of his friends on the shoulder and then folded his arms and nodded his head upward in my direction like a lizard. I was close enough to hear them, speaking in French about me. I don't speak French but I understand the gist of most sentences. I understood that he thought I was a bitch, that I was rude not to answer his invasive questions. When I went inside, I grabbed him on the shoulder as if I were his uncle, squeezing very hard, which is likely laughably weak, but I hope the effect was just the same. I got nervous for a moment. Whenever I am about to say something confrontational, I get dizzy and my vision falls apart, but I knew that even attempting was entertaining enough. I said, in the bestdramatized  French accent I could muster,  Euu, excusez - moi. Je te comprends et je suis un femme. His face lost it's macho-ness and he just stared at me for what felt like 5 seconds but it was likely just 1. He then said, as the door was on its own way to closing, Euu, I em sew sorry! Yew are just very attactive, I wasn't to offend yew.