The Quickest Way To Piss Me Off
I have just had a very rough week, and some of what went down during it brought back the memories. Many years ago, I fell in love with a guy, who in the interests of privacy shall remain unnamed. I was so much into the man, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him and raise children together. We cuddled and held hands and swore undying love to each other. All was well. Then we started having arguments. I don't remember who raised their voice at each other first, but my guy got very good at it, very fast.
This went on for some time. Two things I learned from it was, one, a woman can never outyell a grown man. You can scream at the top of your lungs and you won't even yourself be able to hear your own voice. Therefore, there's no winning an argument with a yelling man. And two, being yelled at by the person you respect and love is incredibly humiliating and depressing. It's like God speaking to you from the heavens to tell you that you suck.
I went through all the proper phases about it: anger, denial, depression, acceptance, and finally arrived at a new phase - zero tolerance to being yelled at by men. I guess women are okay, though none of them ever tried; but, if any of them did, we'd at least be in the same weight category. But, if a guy raises his voice at me, whatever message he's trying to get across is lost. All I hear is nothing; all I feel is a black, cold rage that comes from years of taking it up the ass. Sorry, guys; it's not you; it's me. But even so, I'm warning you that, if you ever try to crank up the volume while talking to me, all respect that I ever had for you will be lost. One strike, you're out. I don't care who you are, unless you're an immediate blood relative, you're out. If you're my child or parent, then I guess I'm stuck with you. Otherwise? You're out. I don't care if your last name is Einstein or Gandhi - you're still out. I don't care if you're a fundamentally good person who's just having a bad day - you are supposed to be an adult in control of yourself - so you're out. I don't care if you're my manager - matter of fact, in this case, I'll probably give you my notice pretty damn soon - and you're out.
I'm pretty much a pushover when it comes to dealing with other people; I don't have much in way of limits and boundaries for others. This appears to be one of the few.
I'm going to sign off now and go make dinner so I don't get yelled at by Mr. Goldie when he gets home...
Ah hah hah, did you buy it? Suckers.
This went on for some time. Two things I learned from it was, one, a woman can never outyell a grown man. You can scream at the top of your lungs and you won't even yourself be able to hear your own voice. Therefore, there's no winning an argument with a yelling man. And two, being yelled at by the person you respect and love is incredibly humiliating and depressing. It's like God speaking to you from the heavens to tell you that you suck.
I went through all the proper phases about it: anger, denial, depression, acceptance, and finally arrived at a new phase - zero tolerance to being yelled at by men. I guess women are okay, though none of them ever tried; but, if any of them did, we'd at least be in the same weight category. But, if a guy raises his voice at me, whatever message he's trying to get across is lost. All I hear is nothing; all I feel is a black, cold rage that comes from years of taking it up the ass. Sorry, guys; it's not you; it's me. But even so, I'm warning you that, if you ever try to crank up the volume while talking to me, all respect that I ever had for you will be lost. One strike, you're out. I don't care who you are, unless you're an immediate blood relative, you're out. If you're my child or parent, then I guess I'm stuck with you. Otherwise? You're out. I don't care if your last name is Einstein or Gandhi - you're still out. I don't care if you're a fundamentally good person who's just having a bad day - you are supposed to be an adult in control of yourself - so you're out. I don't care if you're my manager - matter of fact, in this case, I'll probably give you my notice pretty damn soon - and you're out.
I'm pretty much a pushover when it comes to dealing with other people; I don't have much in way of limits and boundaries for others. This appears to be one of the few.
I'm going to sign off now and go make dinner so I don't get yelled at by Mr. Goldie when he gets home...
Ah hah hah, did you buy it? Suckers.
