Pet peeve 1 million and 1

I make it no secret that I think most people are dumb assholes. However, they can be dumb absent of asshole and visa versa. Although I contend I'd rather deal with a nice dummy than a smart asshole because smart assholes are dangerous. They're a whole new level of evil. Or have the capability of being so.

But I'm not talking about them today. Today is all about the insufferable garden-variety fuckers I, you, we encounter all the live long god damn time. And yes, I know that I fall into all of these categories now-and-then but I'm not talking about myself today either! And if you don't know where you fall in my matrix of ass, I'll give you a hint now.

When someone is sharing a story, recounting a memory or confiding about an important happening, don't interrupt them, follow they're last breath with, relentlessly open your big yapper and spew, " what you should have said was..."

Man! That drives me fucking crazy! Do you know what you do when you say that? You imply the person telling the tale handled it badly. Said the wrong thing. Was a blundering blunderhead. Of course there are situations where that comment is warranted and invited, but be a pal and judge the situation and keep that shit to yourself if the green light of feedback is not illuminated.

When I was in San Fran a few weeks ago the subject of a very painful event between my best friend and I came up. The Bad Thing happened when we were teenagers in high school and involved his family and me and him and it was scary and bad and awful. During this time his mother had called me and asked me to come over to their house, without my friend around, to have a private chat.

Of course I was freaked out and tried to keep myself composed while sitting across from his formidable mama who was burning a laser hole through my skull with her eyes. After some warm-up questions I was hit with the big gun.

She asked me point-blank if her son was gay, since this had a lot to do with the Bad Thing going down. I categorically denied it. And since M. and I were frequent kissing partners and even though I had a hefty suspicion, this was the mid 80's and we were kids and fuck, I wasn't sure and it certainly wasn't my place to say! I didn't know what to do.

This did not go over well since his mother already knew he was in fact a gay boy. And being her first born she was doubly messed up about it which I could tell and felt that I had lied. But if I did lie I lied to myself that day too since in my 17 year-old brain I wanted to marry this guy so I didn't want him to be gay either but I wanted the Bad Thing to be over with and him to be OK even more. And like I said, I really wasn't that sure and fuck, I didn't know what to do.

So yea. She's pretty much hated me ever since. Of course M. is now a lovely gay man who's one of the best people on the planet and the family is cool with everything and actually 1 of his 3 sisters is also gay which I personally think is God's little snub on his mother for being a shit about his coming out (at first) and maybe for being a poop to me back in the day when I hadn't done anything anyway. Ha.

Anyway, back to 2006 and dinner in SF. As we're talking about the Bad Thing our third party dinner companion decided to rail me with a barrage of you should have said's. What is the fucking point of that? This all happened over 20 years ago and I was a child. A child being confronted by an adult. A scary adult. A scary adult in my face.

But so what if it happened yesterday? I certainly didn't say anything like "Oh man, I totally screwed the pooch talking to so-and-so yesterday! How I wished I'd said something different! Thank GOD you're here to correct me in HINDSIGHT!! Wanna make out?"

This guy wouldn't get off my ass about it. And the things he was coming up with that were supposed to be the better responses were retarded at best. Not-to-mention my own mother would have died of shame on the spot to think that her child would speak with such disrepect to an elder. Even with 2 of us arguing back that no, teenagers don't have the wherewithal to handle a situation like that, he didn't give up that bone for at least 10 minutes.

Thankfully I'm not the type to wilt like lettuce in the sun when someone is trying to bully me and since I recognize this flaw in others and the probable reason behind this particular mind-fuck I cordially held my ground and cursed him inside my head.

My irritation when I get that particular phrase is instant. Unfortunately it happens all the time. Fortunately I've gotten a bit used to it. And a couple glasses of expensive wine on the offenders tab takes the urge to shove a piece of buttered bread up their beak.

When I returned to the office the next Monday I was relating this story and my many excellent rebuttals to my supervisor. I was all I said this then he said that and he was all blah blah and I was totally like eff you only nicely and before I could finish my boss cut me off with a chuckle and said;

"I hate those kinds of people too, but what you should have said was..."