This is your typical bitchy rant. No getting around it, I am still pissed off, almost a week later. I felt the need to write something about it because... I'm pretty passive aggressive and, to be honest, the subject of my annoyance likely won't listen to me in person anyway. Also, I'm hoping this will help me get over my feelings of violent rage.
In keeping with this aesthetic, the format of this will most certainly be a "Shitty First Draft" a la Anne Lamotte. I will not stop, it will be in the second person, and there is NO obligation to read it. Seriously, just cuz you feel the need to support my creative efforts, does not mean you have to read this raving rant about someone you probably don't know.
That said, let me set the scene.
There are, admittedly, extenuating circumstances that made last week particularly frustrating. I will acknowledge that things possibly wouldn't have come to a head last week were these circumstances not present. But they were. And everyone but you knew it. One of those things that gets around because people talk and look at each other and pay attention to their surroundings and their friends. But you weren't looking, didn't want to, and instead drowned yourself once again in more drink than could down a cow. Not a rare occurrence, and I admit to not expecting much more from you. Most days, it's entertaining enough. Loveydovey drunk that you are, I can usually write off the bullshit you say to the obscene amount of alcohol in your system.
This time, however, your head-up-your-ass attitude was just the last straw on a heap of obnoxious bullshit I've been having to deal with from you for weeks now.
Now, I could deal with the whole "Oh, I love you, I want you to be my future ex wife, you're just sunshine and rainbows!" shit normally because it usually stops there. I mean, it annoys me for various reasons, but there's a lot I can simply ignore. It's when you start talking about sex with me (strap-ons and otherwise) and touching me and stuff, that's when we have a serious problem. Of the "Oh HELL NO!" variety.
First problem: I have known you for approximately ten years. TEN YEARS. Means I met you when I was about SIXTEEN. Now, a lot's changed since then, but that's still seriously weird. I remember you when I was sixteen and bright-eyed bushy tailed all dorky kid at a dorky school super into The Rocky Horror Picture Show, of which you were a member. All of you guys were so brotherly type taking in young strays and teaching them to be crazy and comfy. It was a nice environment back then. But I was sixteen. I was the kid. THE kid. Like a tiny protege of the cast. Now that was a long time ago, but... still... thinking about that makes this new dynamic super fucking creepy.
Next problem: I've known you for all that fucking time and you didn't notice that I'm not all sunshine and rainbows? Did I have to send out a memo? Are you seriously that shallow? "Hi, umm... I know you still think of me as this girl who eats sunshine and shits rainbows but... I'm really a fucking violent smartass piece of work and I'd appreciate it if all previous versions of me be stricken from the record. THANKS!" Who have you been speaking to these last few years at the club that you think I'm some happy-go-lucky girly girl? Are you fucking blind? Not only am I smarter than that image makes me out to be, I'm not nearly that smiley. I am not a member of the Power Puff Girls. I haven't even watched the Power Puff Girls in at least eight years. A lot of shit happens in ten years that changes a person. I was barely that smiley girl then. Now if you think that's all I am, you're just fucking shallow. I realize that this is, actually, a common misconception of me. Most guys I am around think of me as this pigtailed bouncy rainbow girl. But if a guy gets to know me a little better, they notice that 70% of that is an act. Mostly an ironic comment on that image. I promise, I'm fuckin smarter than that and don't you forget it.
Another problem: Touching me like that is inappropriate. Period. Get your fucking hands off me, I don't care how drunk you are. Next time, I won't try to quell the urge for violence, I'll just elbow you in the throat. And yes, THIS is the girl I expect someone who's known me for ten years to at least have an inkling of. Some idea that I am capable of anger, violence and more rational thought than a fucking cartoon character. Did you need this memo? Should I have sent that? Oops, I had that on my calendar for next week.
And Another: This all went down a week after I ran into you at a different bar and you totally ignored me, chasing some OTHER TAIL. So don't you talk to me about love and whatever, cuz you were not about to give up on that other girl to chat with me about anything. Was it cuz I was with a couple of dudes? Never stopped you from talking to me before. Means you only talk to me when you're hyperdrunk and wanting to get some ass. Thanks, yo. Fuck off.
Last on my list: And we've come to the straw that killed the camel. I didn't think I had to update my facebook status that I was WITH HIM for that last week he was in town. You know, I didn't think it was necessary and, really, I didn't care. Everyone with two eyes was fully aware that he and I had been hooking up all week. But not you. You didn't notice the week before when I let him kinda claim me and yeah, guess who I chose above you? Him. Why? Because he knows I'm not some sunshine-chewing pigtailed Bubbles wannabe. Oh yeah, and you just kinda piss me off.
