Things That Only Happen to Me
So last night I was planning on taking it easy, chilling at home and minding my business. I really did not treat myself well last week, got next to no sleep and was exhausted. Plus, my retard boss was out on Thu-Fri but someone let him have access to a computer at some point and he emailed me some bullshit late Friday afternoon that almost made the top of my head pop off in sheer anger. I have been trying to enhance my calm with all things involving that fuckwit, but for some reason I couldn’t do that on Friday afternoon, I think because I was really exhausted and cranky. So I came home, took a two-hour nap and prepared to just watch some TV and hang out with the doggies. Then I let said doggies outside. They let loose with such a caterwauling that I had to go see what the problem was. Normally this just entails opening the door and calling them back in, or telling them to shut it already, but they were going NUTS, and then I heard another big-sounding dog bark so I had to get my shoes on and go out there.
So I am just woken up, cranky, tired, headachey, sweaty and just generally aggravated. I get out to the fence and shut the dogs up, and my neighbor pops his head over the top of it. I say “hey” to him, apologize for the dogs being obnoxious and then find out it was his big, sweet dog who was barking at them. So I ask how he’s doing, trying to be neighborly, and he tells me that his wife has driven to Kansas to see relatives in some old car he bought for $20. I nod - they’ve always got a story like that, he buys all his cars for $20, or trades a pile of bricks for one, or finds one at a junkyard he just has to have and then he tinkers with them until they run somewhat. They’re that kind of people. So I am expecting some story about how the car broke down on her. No such luck.
He tells me that his wife is doing all this stuff, she’s out of town for the next few days. This is when my alarm bells start ringing, due to my past interactions with this guy. He then looks around furtively, licks his lips and says “Hey, you want to sleep with me this weekend? [My wife] allows me dalliances.” And when he says “dalliances” he makes a scrabbling little gesture with his right hand, halfway between drumming one’s fingers on a table top and rotating some of those Chinese exercise balls. Perhaps this was meant to illustrate the nature of the dalliance I could expect were I to take him up on his proposition.
I gape for a moment and then let out with a peal of laughter, because I know he’s serious but I don’t want to act like I am taking this seriously. I want him to take the hint and laugh it off like it’s a joke. So I just laugh a little and say something about him having all that free time and no one to do, ha ha, so funny. And he says more insistently “No, I am serious, do you want to?”
So I have to answer, and I say very seriously and slowly while shaking my head back and forth: “No, I am all booked up this weekend.” He nods sagely. “I thought you might be.”
Now, if it had ended there it would have been bizarre and creepy and gross enough. But you know me, it didn’t end there, it had to get insulting on top of that. You’d think that Mr. Smooth would quit while he was totally behind, and I really don’t know if this next part was attributable to his utter cluelessness or some kind of passive aggressive jab at me for daring to refuse him.
“Well, I thought you might be.” he said “And I think I am going to see if I can find a skinny girl to fuck anyway. It’s been a while since I have been with a skinny girl, and you’re really just more of the same of what I’ve got at home.”
:-|
OK then. So I point out to him that there are some really skinny crackwhores in the apt behind us, but he’d have to pay for that. And then his friend who was in the garage tinkering around on the car called him and he said he had to go. So that’s me then, hoping for a peaceful Friday night, but ending up hot, tired, cranky, now bitten by bugs, rudely propositioned, insulted and disturbed. Just a typical day in the life.
So I went in and considered this for a moment. Not considered the proposition, but considered how fucking irritating it was and why. That guy has been making comments to me for more than a year that led me to believe he thought he might get a piece, despite my NEVER, EVER being in the least flirty and pretty much only ever talking to the guy when I am in some yoga pants and a t-shirt covered in sweat, OFF! and garden dirt.
I wasn’t totally startled for him to say something like that, just more startled by the bluntness of it. And irritated by him thinking that I would just be up for fucking whoever made an offer, and irritated by his assholishness in basically calling me an unfuckable fat chick (that he nevertheless wanted to fuck) and irritated by the fact that despite how irritated I was, I had to smile pretty and pretend it was all HILARIOUS and good fun. As my next-door neighbor there are a million ways in which he could make my life miserable if he wanted to, so maintaining the peace is important. But I wanted to hit him in the face with a rake.
There are too many situations like that in my life right now, where I have to pretend that things are fine when they’re not, that people aren’t being assholes when they are. Too many ways in which I have to keep the peace, be the bigger person, act like a rational adult when I want to punch people.
That’s one of the reasons that the Urf! cartoon about the offline box forums delighted me so much, because I think that the chance to holler whatever I am thinking to people who are in the same room pissing me off would be totally intoxicating. I feel as if I am surrounded by a thousand anti-social retards at all times, and I am the only one who considers what they say before they say it. And if I don’t have a chance to say true things to someone, sometime, then I am going to absolutely implode.
Update 08/03/08: 7:30 a.m. Get up and let dogs out. In my bathrobe, as one is at 7:30. Neighbor calls at 7:34 a.m. & leaves message that he has a package for me. Swear. What makes this worse than anything? The only package I am expecting is from Toys in Babeland.
6 Responses to “Things That Only Happen to Me”
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It’s bad enough that women have to put up with this shit just walking down the street. (A quote from a recent story, in a blog you may enjoy if you aren’t reading it:
“There is no proper way to pay random attractive women on the street a compliment. I don’t want to hear random dudes tell me they have deigned to deem me fuckable when I am daring to use to public way to carry out my fucking business.” )
Sorry for all the fucking cussing.
http://bitchphd.blogspot.com/2008/08/quick-hit-sunday-sexual-harassment.html
And thanks for being outraged on my behalf. I talked to Todd a while on the phone yesterday (he was en route to Chicago from LA) and he was also outraged & irritated, and he doesn’t get that way very often, so I felt further validated. Just so surreal and offensive.
And the sad thing is that I really wanted to do some yardwork yesterday, but knew that if I did this guy would be trying to talk to me, so I stayed inside.
I was talking to my friend Jessica on Friday about why/how he could have gotten the impression that he could say that to me (you know, trying to find a way it was my fault) and she said “It’s nothing to do with anything you did. All my guy friends, they’re all like that. In the back of their heads they’re always thinking that you’ve got a hole and they’ve got something they could stick in it.”
Which is equal parts true and disheartening, and makes me never want to talk to another man again, ever. Bleh.
Asshole: you’re really just more of the same of what I’ve got at home.
Susie: oh, she won’t fuck you, either?
I like that version better.
Then we could have both been rudely propositioned for a three-way or something, but had a snappier retort.
I miss you when you’re not around.
I suspect there’s a reason his wife is gone. If I was his wife, I’d be gone, too.