Tag Archives: Bitches

Grow Up, Please

I’ve had an unusually dramatic weekend. It’s been brought to my attention that someone from my past has been going around calling me names. Apparently, I’m a sex fiend and a slut. She’s said other immature, hurtful things as well but none of them offended me as much as those comments. The girl’s omnipresent cattiness is one of the many reasons I’m happy to have cut her out of my life, but I feel I need to say something about the “slut” thing on behalf of women everywhere (that’s just how I roll).

People absolutely need to stop judging women based on the number of sexual partners they’ve had. Social constructions of sexuality and gender have deemed it ‘natural’ for a man to want and seek sex, whereas when a woman does the same, it’s labeled ‘wrong’, ‘disgusting’ and of course, ‘slutty’. A man who has lots of sex is a player; a woman who has lots of sex is a whore. This double standard has been around for a long time but because it’s never affected me personally, I’ve never bothered dissecting it.

Why has it never affected me personally? Well, I don’t know what constitutes a “slut” in this specific girl’s eyes but, at 24, I can count the number of men I’ve been with on one hand. I’ve only ever been with guys I liked and truly cared for. I’ve never had a one night stand or a fuck friend. In terms of numbers, I’m probably the least sexually experienced girl I know.

However, I firmly believe that even if I had an extremely large pool of partners and countless anonymous experiences, it would still be no one’s goddamned business but my own. Really, no one should be discussing or making up lies about my private, personal sex life. I may be nowhere near the kind of person she’s described me as being, but even if I were, accusing a woman of loving and having lots of sex shouldn’t be an insult. When you think about it, it pretty much sounds like a compliment. So, uh, thanks, I guess.

-Melissa

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Road Rage

BadDriverI am fuming. Seriously, I’m so mad right now. I can’t even describe it. Allow me to explain: I was driving to work this morning. Everything was going smoothly. That’s when it happened. The asshat in the SUV next to me decided to change lanes. Fine, no problem, whatever. Except he didn’t signal his turn OR check his blind spot. So, basically, he turned right into me. I started honking like a madwoman. This did not appear to phase him, as he continued driving into my lane even more aggressively. I had to slam on the breaks. Thankfully, there was no one directly behind me.

That bastard. I pulled up beside him at the next light and started telling him to fuck off and die. He and his wife both yelled back and gave me, gasp, the finger.

I hate when people who can’t drive give me shit. They should offer apologetic gestures for their lack of driving skills rather than try to blame the situation on me. I’m pretty cautious on the road. Well, I have to be, considering how crazy Quebec drivers, including but not limited to speed-hungry RDP wops in their souped up Civics, are.

But as polite and careful as I usually am, I also have a mean side. I think it might be road rage. I mean, I’m not mad all the time, but if a driver really pisses me off, I freak out. Once, I got so mad at a cab driver that he got out of his car and started pounding on my window, yelling at me. Also, I honk forever; once I press down on that bitch, I’m leaving my hand there for at least twenty seconds. I’ve lost it on everyone from mid-life crisis-having old men in their convertible Miatas and girls putting their makeup on behind the wheel to old ladies and driving school students.

I’m quite patient in all aspects of life, so I’m sort of puzzled as to why bad road manners get to me so much. Maybe I’ve got all kinds of pent-up frustration that I conveniently release every time a moron cuts me off. Whatever. I don’t even care at this point. I’ve narrowly escaped a bunch of bad accidents because of shitty drivers, so I feel as though I’m allowed to get mad at them.

-Melissa

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Steppin’ All Over Me

I’m such a scaredy cat! Someone needs to teach me how to stand up for myself. I mean, I don’t normally have problems defending myself verbally (I like to think I can outsmart and outwit people rather easily), but if the threat of getting my butt whooped is present, I’m gonna need some back up.

Maria and I actually went out Friday for a girls’ night of sorts. That’s where I got bullied. Yeah, bullied! I’m 24. This is ridiculous. Anyway, we went to Rouge. We were waiting in line to pee. I was at the front of the line when a beastly woman cut in front of me. I tapped her on the shoulder and kindly warned her that other people were waiting. The conversation went like this:

Me: “Sorry, the line is back there.”
Bitch: “Since when?”
Me: “Since we’ve all been waiting?”
Bitch: “What are you gonna do about it?”

WTF? How do people like this exist? Obvs I didn’t do shit about it. She was scary! And what am I supposed to do? Start beating on her, yelling for her to get in line? Find a bouncer and tattle on her?  

There must have been a way to deal with this monster, one that didn’t involve hitting her (it?), stealing her boyfriend or using sarcasm that would most likely have been lost on her anyway. I just couldn’t think of anything.

So I let her cut in line. 

Sigh.

-Melissa

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