Story of my life in a short anecdote

Everybody gets tired of staying indoors all-day don't they? So at around 9:30pm I decide to take a stroll in the park, if daylight and occupation level of benches allows for it maybe even sit down for a while and read at bit. ( Ach the lure of a newfound Sue Townsend book) of course it is June, even in Belgium this means at least a slight chance of agreeable temperatures at nearly sundown, so pretty much every suitable desirable spot was occupied. Never despair they say so I act the crazy eight-year old that I actually am and start taking pictures of bark and leaves, getting bored at bark five (I'm eight years old after all) I spot a quiet place an decide upon it. While moving at slightly higher than normal walking speed along the shortest possible line to my spotted seat I am addressed by a total stranger.
'Hey girl, can I talk to you?' I give him the look- expressing my resentment at being addressed as 'girl', make no comment but think 'You already are talking to me'. I consider the conversation closed and move on my way, he leaps up takes two steps towards me and says 'Can we sit some place together, I want to talk to you'. I cast him another look - meaning: I figured as much when you first spoke but I DON'T want to talk to you, and I say (in a very uninviting tone) 'I'm just talking a walk to get some fresh air, I should be studying' (which was only partly a lie). 'Then can I have your telephone number?' 'No, I don't give my number to strangers.' 'But this is the way people get to know each other.' Casting the yeah right-look. 'Whatever.' And I make for home mildly annoyed not being able to read a chapter or two in the evening glare.
This is what happens when you have too high expectations of men. I thought it was obvious that I was not interested in talking, that I wanted me-time and that in my eyes men are a life-form two grades lower than earthworms. I thought black men were good at body language. I thought evasive answers were preferable to insults. Of course I could have been clearer but smacking someone on the head seems such a violent way of saying 'Get you're hands of me and no I won't be here again tomorrow'. Is there a mathematical rule revealed to boys only in which 'girl with big breasts' equals 'cheap whore'? I mean, seriously, is there?