Things That Make Me Angry: Men of the Public

I think my friends believe that I am too interested in male attention. I guess I do appear to be too susceptible to male charms...according to their perceptions, I'm sure, I'm toast the minute one tells me he thinks I'm pretty.

The truth of the matter is that, at best, men of the public bore me, and at worst, their complete lack of respect makes me want to casually shred them like so many pieces of blank paper. Men are blank paper, for the most part, completely oblivious to how aware I am of their pathetic, prehistoric methods. One of the most annoying manifestations of these methods is The Loyal Wingman. His repulsive cohort bothers my friend. I stand behind the cohort and mouth, "are you okay?" My intention is to leave them alone if she seems amused, but the TLW sees my interceptive activities and steps in to intercept me. "Hey! How ya doin'? Who are you here with? Whatcha drinkin'? Are you guys, like, sisters?" Yeah. Marion and I are sisters. Go jump off a bridge. Please. Do one good thing with your life and rid the world of your mouth-breathing, slow-blinking, waste of valuable resources body (I say "body" because this being clearly has no mind or true self, like one of the lower animals).

Men of the world, make no mistake. I see right through you. So please get out of my personal space with your false etiquette and "techniques". You do not charm me - you disgust me. You are less than my plaything; you are merely the hors d'oeuvre to what truly amuses me.

What truly amuses me is the chase, wherein you see yourself as the skillful pursuant, and the delicious finale, wherein I break that illusion. This is my universal approach. I don't love you. I don't even like you. In almost every case, I can hardly tolerate you, your presence, your very being, and it is only through measured breathing and unfaltering concentration on my goal that I can even manage to converse with you, or look at you, at all. Such is my distaste. The men in my life (that is, those who have been sanctified through my ritual caustic trials, men who have borne the adversity of knowing me and have maintained their intelligence, grace, and manners through it) have spoiled me for most others: the ones I have chosen maintain that title because they are proven to be the best of their kind. So to be confronted with the dregs of existence - like you - every day is a painful, shocking experience. To have to share the air with you causes me pain. Your having been born and allowed to continue living rapes my soul.

I think it is no wonder I want to end you. All of you. So stop talking to me, asking me, touching me. No.