I have no idea where to start with this little psuedo-rant, so I'll just get to the meat of it.
Terry was talking a bunch of s**t about Elisabeth because she had some stuff on her mind and was less-than-willing to take his crap today.
This made me a bit angry.
He tried to take something from me [an eraser, something that he had mentioned, but never really asked to borrow, and was actually in my pencil pouch, which was tucked under my arm and in a place that is deep within my personal space] w/o asking and I got a little stern.
Perhaps moreso than I should have, but I wasn't in a position to be what we would call civil.
He, then, went on a tiny rant, one comment of which involved something that involved the words, "I guess you're PMS-ing, then."
I don't know about anyone else, but I took a bit of offense at this.
One, to me it was rude.
Second, it seemed so... male and chauvinistic to assume [I really friggin' hate it when people assume things about me] that I had to be PMS-ing in order to be angry at him.
This led to me being even more angry at him and maybe a bit more over-reacting.
I don't know.
At lunch, I walked with some other friends to the band locker room, then went to the table to give us both a chance to cool our heads.
He, then, proceeds to be rude [ex: leaving me to watch everyone's stuff while I sit alone at the table, including his friend's food, which he put on top of all of my books, calling me a b***h and not in a playful way, etc.].
I decide that I'd rather sit in a place where people still have a modicum of affection for me and gather up my stuff to go.
Here is the exchange that followed:
Terry: Are you leaving?
Cara: Yeah. -stands-
Terry: Why? -gets up, as well-
Cara: Because I'd like to sit with friends that don't call me a b***h.
-cannot remember what happened between me walking away from the table and Terry catching up with me, so... draw a blank, please. > 3< ]
Terry: So.. I've been thinking about something I want to say to you.
Cara: Well... you have time to think about it some more.
Terry: Oh, no, I'm done thinking.
Cara: -stops- Okay. Shoot.
Terry: I don't think this friendship is going to work. You don't give anything to this friendship... -speaks more in this vein- I think I'm going to hang out with different people more, now.
The conversation went on with me trying to be civil, but getting angry again, anyway, and finally resorting to the wonderfully witty retort of [because I get flustered, fluffed-up, and short on words when I'm pissed], "Well, I'm going to go sit with my other friends, now."
We parted ways and I haven't talked to him or seen him since.
If he thinks I'm going to spend the weekend crying my eyes out because we aren't friends anymore, he's got another thing coming.
I've got better things to do.
It was his choice, not mine.
-is getting riled, again-
Haaaaave some pretty.
And, just to cheer myself up, a cute birdie in a water cup.
Terry was talking a bunch of s**t about Elisabeth because she had some stuff on her mind and was less-than-willing to take his crap today.
This made me a bit angry.
He tried to take something from me [an eraser, something that he had mentioned, but never really asked to borrow, and was actually in my pencil pouch, which was tucked under my arm and in a place that is deep within my personal space] w/o asking and I got a little stern.
Perhaps moreso than I should have, but I wasn't in a position to be what we would call civil.
He, then, went on a tiny rant, one comment of which involved something that involved the words, "I guess you're PMS-ing, then."
I don't know about anyone else, but I took a bit of offense at this.
One, to me it was rude.
Second, it seemed so... male and chauvinistic to assume [I really friggin' hate it when people assume things about me] that I had to be PMS-ing in order to be angry at him.
This led to me being even more angry at him and maybe a bit more over-reacting.
I don't know.
At lunch, I walked with some other friends to the band locker room, then went to the table to give us both a chance to cool our heads.
He, then, proceeds to be rude [ex: leaving me to watch everyone's stuff while I sit alone at the table, including his friend's food, which he put on top of all of my books, calling me a b***h and not in a playful way, etc.].
I decide that I'd rather sit in a place where people still have a modicum of affection for me and gather up my stuff to go.
Here is the exchange that followed:
Terry: Are you leaving?
Cara: Yeah. -stands-
Terry: Why? -gets up, as well-
Cara: Because I'd like to sit with friends that don't call me a b***h.
-cannot remember what happened between me walking away from the table and Terry catching up with me, so... draw a blank, please. > 3< ]
Terry: So.. I've been thinking about something I want to say to you.
Cara: Well... you have time to think about it some more.
Terry: Oh, no, I'm done thinking.
Cara: -stops- Okay. Shoot.
Terry: I don't think this friendship is going to work. You don't give anything to this friendship... -speaks more in this vein- I think I'm going to hang out with different people more, now.
The conversation went on with me trying to be civil, but getting angry again, anyway, and finally resorting to the wonderfully witty retort of [because I get flustered, fluffed-up, and short on words when I'm pissed], "Well, I'm going to go sit with my other friends, now."
We parted ways and I haven't talked to him or seen him since.
If he thinks I'm going to spend the weekend crying my eyes out because we aren't friends anymore, he's got another thing coming.
I've got better things to do.
It was his choice, not mine.
-is getting riled, again-
Haaaaave some pretty.
And, just to cheer myself up, a cute birdie in a water cup.
Community Member
and soft lips count the stars
while gentle blades of midnight grass
mark the distance to where you are.
and I can feel you next to me-
I close my eyes against the night,
half afraid to see.