A couple of days ago, though, while listening to The Game featuring 50 Cent (BECAUSE I AM RAP'S MVP, FUCK!), my lady spidey sense began to tingle. I became acutely aware of a jogger following me at an inappropriately close distance. I removed my headphones and mentally practiced my judo moves.
He followed me through the park, until I exited near the tennis courts. He then oddly jogged a few feet into the nearest driveway. When he thought I wasn't looking, he surreptitiously ran out of the driveway and back into the park, thus proving that a) I can no longer enjoy the public park and b) he did not live in that house and was indeed a perv.
I relayed this tale to my male companion, who assured me that "pervs don't always rape ladies. Sometimes they just enjoy making ladies nervous." Deciding not to ask him how he knows so much about creepos, I responded, "Little did he know that I get my jollies from shanking pervs."
You better jog.