Category: rants

Unapologetically Detestable

MissMLeave a comment

In the spirit of outlining my top seven pet peeves last week, (see 7 Unforgivable Transgressions) I’ve decided i’ll unveil the top seven character traits of mine that set my peers off. (In an unapologetic manner, of course, with absolutely no consideration to alter or improve aforementioned character traits.) So, without further ado, here are my top seven detestable human habits! Enjoy. 

1. I am LOOOOOOUD. 

And I don’t mean just notably more rambunctious than everybody else within a visual circumference of your person .  I was blessed with a voice that carries through the air like a goose feather and raps against each and every eardrum within a quarter-mile radius. Beyond that, rare is an occasion that my clamorous vocal cords are not in use. Yes, I like to hear myself talk so stop looking at me like i’m interrupting something important. 

2. I am selfish.

Especially when it comes to food. I will not share my fruit, pancakes, or Jalapeño Cheetos with anyone. I hide my favorite breakfast cereals from my family. I probably won’t leave a piece of pizza for you so you have something to eat when you get home from soccer practice, sissy. However, I do expect you to share with me, and if you refuse, I will eat off your plate, or bite your finger like a carrot. 

3. I am only high-spirited on an exceptionally conditional basis. 

And those conditions are as follows: (In order of importance)

     1. I have eaten in the past two hours.

     2. I am properly caffeinated, as well as hydrated. 

     3. I slept at least 8.3 hours last night. 

     4. I got a good workout in within the past 48 hours. 

     5. Nobody has told me “no” recently. 

      6. I am satisfied with the way my hair turned out today. 

4. I always have the final word. 

My 16-year-old sister and I argue over virtually everything you could possibly imagine arguing about, and let me tell you, not one of these arguments have ended with a snide remark out of her mouth. No, typically our bicker-sessions end with me calling her some snide, totally uncalled for, and immature name. I know this makes me a horrendous person, but I feel better after calling her a name. It’s like a formal declaration that I’ve won yet another argument. 

5. I post a minimum of three FaceBook statuses A DAY. 

Can you really blame me? It would be selfish of me to keep these priceless thoughts in my own little head. I am flawlessly hilarious, and I feel that it is my duty-nay, my burden-to share them with the world wide web. 

6. I do things in spite of those who know better. 

I have these ADORABLE high-waisted shorts that I bought this past summer that are to be worn with a tucked-in shirt and make my legs look awesome. However, every time I wear these shorts, my mother dearest always makes remarks such as “Maddie, your whole butt is hanging out!” or “Those shorts are just a tiny bit short, don’t you think?” Yes, mom, I do think, but I like. And so I shall continue to wear. 

7. I am confrontationally impaired. 

If you do something to piss me off, I will engage in a series of behaviors that will lead you to correctly believe that I am pissed off at you. But I will never tell you to your face what it is that you’ve done to me to make me pissed off in the first place. So good luck figuring it out while I treat you like crap until you apologize, gosh dang you. 

And that, my good people, are the top 7 reasons why people hate me. 

M. 

7 Unforgivable Transgressions

MissM3 Comments

It goes without saying that a majority of the actions committed by other people irk me at best. I could write one hell of a lengthy post on everything that bothers me about other people. But on this fine Saturday, i’d like to focus on a select handful or two of unforgivable behaviors that will result in either an act of violence or verbal abuse from me. 

1. People who say, or have ever said, “make me a sammitch” 

Yes, folks. We’re talking about sexism. I’m sure it comes to no surprise to you that this made the top of my list, but all of these Kitchen Jokes have got to go. It’s 2014 for heaven’s sake. The whole “women belong in the kitchen” thing stopped being funny before kitchens were even a thing. And why is there no male equivalent for Kitchen Jokes? You don’t hear me telling my dude friends, “why don’t you go open some jars or something?” Why? BECAUSE IT’S NOT FUNNY. Not only are people who vocalize these “jokes” assholes, they’re admitted, ignorant, bigamistic assholes, and deserve a hammer to the esophagus. 

2. Grammar/Spelling “Mistakes”

I don’t believe in ‘typos.’ That’s called laziness. Freak, everything has spellcheck these days, along with grammar check if you’re on Microsoft Word. If you’re not sure how to spell a word, you probably can’t use it correctly, either, so stick to the smaller ones you’re familiar with okay? And stop contaminating my news feed with posts “lyke dis kayyy boyz & gurls?” 

3. Condescension

If you want to stir me up into a tornado of pissed-off fury, call me “sweetie” or “hun.” I can tolerate it if you’re from the South and you call everybody “hun,” but only if you have a legitimate accent as well as proof of residency. It’s no secret that I appear to be 16 years old at best (with a full face of makeup, of course. Bare-faced, I could MAYBE pass for 14) but trust me, I will harshly correct you in an unapologetic, interrupting manner if you dare talk down to me. That’s an insult to my intelligence and I won’t have it. I will. not. have. it. 

4. Telling me to turn my music down 

No. 

5. Cheapskates 

By this, I mean people who don’t tip appropriately. A wise man (or woman, I’m not really sure what the gender of this wise being is)  once said, “If you can’t afford to tip, you can’t afford to go out.” I concur. Perhaps it’s just because I spent some time waiting tables at this little diner in my hometown that I have noticed this instance of injustice. Let me just say, there is nothing more disheartening and disappointing than waiting on an indecisive, picky, ungrateful table of 6 to find nothing but three singles on their table after they’d trashed the entire booth and left. 

6. Diet Talk

Unless I specifically ask you about your nutritional regime, I don’t want to hear a word about your latest diet fad. Not a word, you hear me? And have you noticed these type of conversations only occur on Sunday evenings over triple chocolate brownies? Shhh, dear. Here, have another brownie. Do you want ice cream on top? 

7.  Truth-dancer-arounders

In the words of John Mayer, Say What You Need To Say. Wanna break up? TELL ME. Mad at me? LET ME KNOW. Disagree with me? PROVE ME WRONG. When it comes to situations as these, less is more. And by less, I mean less words. Just spit it out, and i’ll deal. Whatever you’re about to tell me is gonna piss me off anyway, probably, and i’d prefer you just cut to the chase so I can be pissed and move on already.

I’m sure I could come up with way more than 7 sins, but 7’s a good number, plus it’s Saturday and I have ish to do for school so I’ll restrain myself.  

If y’all could abstain from committing these misdeeds immediately, that would be peachy. 

M. 

A Tender Termination

MissM6 Comments

You know what they say, all good things must come to an end. 

Including summer flings. 

I had one, this past summer. I know, ME. Someone voluntarily signed himself up to date my crazy ass for a month or two. 

We started out strong, going on well-planned, well-structured, yet financially conscious dates. That lasted for approximately a fortnight, when he requested that we both begin exclusively only dating one another and nobody else. From that point on through last night, I was somebody’s girlfriend. 

We all know how these things go. Gradually, the structured dates morphed into casual hangouts and late-night lounging on each others’ couches. The closest thing we’d have to a date was a run to 7-11 for a Slurpee. (He funded the Slurpee runs, so I let this continue for a while.)

The casual hangouts tapered down in frequency, as did the communication between boy and me. For a span of another fortnight, we’d hardly even texted at all. I knew this fling had come to a close because I did not miss this young man. Heck, I’d hardly even noticed his absence.

Over the course of the past two weeks, I’d been worrying myself sick trying to script a gentle, yet straight-forward way to terminate our contract of exclusionary courtship. You see, I struggle with confrontation. My preferred method of communication is written, which is exactly what I intended to do. 

My break-up plan was to write boy a letter that gracefully terminated our friendship and also notified him of why my feelings for him had ceased. I would then place said letter on his doorstep along with his damn glasses that he always leaves in my car, and that would be that with that. 

Regardless of my preferred, passive method of ending this fling, we had the dreaded “talk” last evening. 

Boy requested that we go to our “spot” to talk, so I drove (as I always do because boy doesn’t have an automobile) to the capital building, temporarily renamed “our spot,” so we could discuss the future of us. Please note that aforementioned spot is 30+ miles from my home. 

Long story short, boy asked me to practically analyze the current status of our relationship, and based on my analysis, present to him what my thoughts were regarding our future together. It was basically the most emotionless breakup in the history of forever. 

After I expressed how I no longer had feelings for him and that I was fine with us being through, he concurred, and then told me (in not so many words) that it is practically impossible for him to have a deep conversation with me and that he would rather be alone with me. 

After “the talk,” it was my burden to drive boy from our former “spot” back to his apartment. The air was awkward, stifling, and tense the entire 3.4 minute drive back to his place. 

Before emerging from my Camry, he turned to me and said, “You know you’re great, right?” 

To which I responded, “Yes, boy, I do know that I am great. I don’t need yours or anyone’s reassurance.”  AND THEN HE LEFT HIS GLASSES IN MY CAR AGAIN. 

I am relieved to have formally ended this fling with boy, but I am flustered that he would think that I would be so emotionally affected by our parting ways. 

I simply don’t give a profanity. It doesn’t hurt to hear that he’d lost interest in me, when my feelings for him had ceased weeks ago. I promise, i’ll be fine without his presence in my life. And no, my self-esteem has not been tainted with the termination of our little fling. 

Because, you see, not only am I free of worrying about hurting someone’s feelings that i’d lost interest in, but I will save 15% or more on gas by switching to a boy who can drive at least half the time. 

And he can take the bus to my hometown and come pick up his spectacles himself, gosh dang it. 

Someone write a book on how to properly break up with people, cuz clearly young adults as a whole aren’t getting it. 

M. 

Award

MissM1 Comment

Last night, I spent hours binge-blogging when I came across Nonsense & Shenanigins (Which is a gem of a blog, and I highly recommend y’all check it out.) After commenting on a post of hers, she was kind enough to visit my blog as well, and decided to nominate me for the (drumroll please) Very Inspiring Blogger Award! 

*Gets choked up* *Gingerly wipes tear from eyes* *Clears throat to make motivational speech*

vib

TADA! There she is. 

And now for my “Thank You” speech. First and foremost, I’d like to thank Tempest Rose from Nonsense & Shenanigins for nominating me for this award. Secondly, I’d like to thank the flustering, ignorant, bigots of the world that fuel my anger and give me so much to rant about! Without you, this blog would not be possible. Lastly, I’d like to thank everyone who’s ever read, disagreed with, or visited my blog. I can’t tell you how encouraging it is to know that somebody somewhere is reading what I compose. 

And now for the rules of participating in the VIB Award

  1. Thank and link to the amazing person who nominated you.
  2. List the rules and display the award.
  3. Share seven facts about yourself.
  4. Nominate 7 other amazing blogs and comment on their posts to let them know they have been nominated.
  5. Proudly display the award logo on your blog and follow the blogger who nominated you.

7 Facts You Never Knew About Maddisen Tingey (and probably never cared to know anyway):

1. My wildest dream is to own my very own ranch in Alabama somewhere so I can have my very own animals and wear sundresses all the time and sit on my porch with the other southern belles and gossip and drink iced tea and acquaint myself with shirtless farm boys and the like. 

2. Although I am a devout feminist, a feminazi if you will, I am shamefully obsessed with gushy romance novels. I’ve read all of Nicholas Sparks’s books multiple times, and have shed many a tear over true love that can never be. I’m the same way with movies. It’s a problem. 

3. I have the hardest time speaking my mind. No, I’m not shy, but for some reason, I am completely unable to verbalize my own feelings. However, hand me a MacBook Air, and I can be the most confrontational, straight-forward feelings-sharer you ever did know. 

4. My dream career would be to become an established author and editorial writer. I want to write quirky novels and also share my overbearing opinions on current issues via print magazines, etc. 

5. I am a contracted “model.” All five feet and two inches of me. Let me tell you a little something: the modeling world is a joke unless you have at least 2 grand to throw toward launching your “career.” And even then, you’ll probably hardly ever book any jobs. I hate myself a little for falling into this trap. 

6. My first language was German. My mom was born in Deutschland and moved to the states when she was 18, only to return back to her motherland to serve an LDS mission, where she met my dad. Then the best thing that could have happened to them, me, and German was all I heard as a kid. 

7. I was a vegetarian until age 17. But now I put bacon on virtually everything. 

So now you guys know seven random and unimportant facts about me! Do with that information what you will.

And my own nominees for the Very Inspiring Blogger are: 

Young Mormon Feminists (I am going to be guest-blogging for them on a monthly basis and I am simply ECSTATIC)

Natural 0

Man’s World

Charity Novell

La Vida Es Dolce

Thinking About Blank

I Am Begging My Mother Not To Read This Blog

And that’s that. 

M. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Amelioration

MissM11 Comments

Today, while I was updating my knowledge on current Feminism-related events, I stumbled across the following quote: 

Women's world

Y’know, lately I’ve been so frustrated every Sabbath when I sit down in the pews and just wait for a speaker or teacher to say something that will stir up my Feminist rage. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been attending my church meetings with the expectation that somebody will say something offensive, oppressive, or degrading about the role of women in the Gospel. It’s as if I’m subconsciously, yet actively searching for someone to affront me. 

It’s stunting my spiritual growth. 

I don’t remember who said it, but we all know that quote that goes something like, “no one can offend you without your consent.” All of this consenting people to offend me with their derogatory comments and insisting that a woman’s place is strictly in the home is getting rather exhausting.

Why do I allow these people to affect my relationship with my church and my God? Who cares if Brother or Sister so-and-so don’t approve with my views on what my role as a daughter of God are? The only approval that matters to me is the approval of my Heavenly Parents. (Notice I said parents, I’d like to acknowledge the fact that I have a Heavenly Mother as well.) 

The God I am coming to know wants me to be happy. The God I know won’t repeal the incomprehensible love He has for me if I decide to pursue work outside of the home. Because what matters to me matters to Him. 

The God I am coming to know loves me as much as he loves my brethren, and knows that I am just as capable as they are in achieving anything I put my mind and energy into, and He encourages me to reach my full potential in every dream I pursue. 

So go ahead and keep trying to nudge me toward the ‘mommy track.’ Continue preaching your Relief Society lessons on the cruciality of being a submissive, home-making, child-rearer and telling me that this is the right way for me to live my life and fulfill my role. Keep blaming me for infecting the thoughts of the men I encounter if I choose not to cover my shoulders, or wear shorts that don’t hit the knee. 

Because I’m through letting this culture we are so caught up in affect the growth of my testimony, and my ability to feel the Spirit. 

The important thing is, progress is being made. Even the General Relief Society President has acknowledged the fact that a woman should not be limited to the role of a stay-at-home housewife. 

Small steps toward equality are being made. What more can I ask for? 

Carry on, Mormon Feminists. 

Petulance, Intoxication, and Antiphon

MissM1 Comment

Before I dive into this post head-on, I’d like to start with a diminutive disclaimer. 

Here goes: 

I have no problem with peoples’ choices regarding the substances they ingest. I do, however, have an issue with discourtesy and unmannerliness.

Disclaimer over. Let’s get to the good stuff. 

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to attend a Journey concert at my local outdoor amphitheater with the rest of the family. Despite minor altercation from sister to sister, or worse, sister to parent, we were having a splendid evening. 

When we first arrived at the venue, our first objective, naturally, was to find something to eat. Heaven forbid we all agree on the same food truck, so we split up and stood in multiple, seemingly eternal lines with rumbling bellies. 

Once we’d all purchased our dinners, we rendezvoused at a small picnic table with one of those umbrella things puncturing the middle, providing relief from the scorching, July sun. 

There were three other concert spectators sharing our table with us, due to the ratio of tables to concession consumers. One of these was a stout woman, perhaps in her mid-fifties, with glasses and more wrinkles than both of the other table mates combined. While I was scarfing down my absolutely disgusting, and completely overpriced salad, this woman turned to me and inquired whether or not smoking was allowed in our current location. 

“I don’t smoke,” I replied, “I don’t know, I’m sorry.” 

She nodded and we both went back to our own business. She turned to her other table mate, another woman of similar age, who was sandwiched between the smoker and a man of similar age, presumably her husband. The smoker told the woman in the middle that she was going to take a smoke. My mother overheard their conversation and politely asked that the smoker wait until my family had finished eating and had left the table to start smoking. 

The smoker responded, “Why yes, of course, I’m not THAT disrespectful.” She then got up and searched for an authority to receive directions for the designated smoking area. 

After a moment, the other woman stood up and addressed my mother. She said, “Y’know, I don’t think that’s right of you to ask my friend not to smoke. You came and sat with us. We were here first.” She was holding a plastic cup containing approximately four ounces of Budweiser. Unfortunately, she lacked the ability to contain herself. 

She continued babbling pathetically at my mom, saying how disrespectful and wrong it was for her to ask the smoker to wait until we’d gone to light a cigarette. After a few more seconds of her slurring and complaining, my father interjected and informed her that smoking was not allowed at this event. 

She responded that there were no signs prohibiting smoking, to which my dad reminded her that there were signs all throughout the entrances. They argued for a while, my dad getting increasingly more flustered and choleric. 

If we wouldn’t have picked up our stuff and simply walked away from this woman, my dad would probably still be sitting at that table, arguing with her. 

I learned a few things from this experience. First of all, despite signs that indicate that there is no smoking allowed, people will still sneak in drugs and light ’em up at the Journey concert-especially marijuana. Second, don’t order salads from food trucks at concerts. Just be a normal human and get pizza or a burger or something. Third, I may not be able to attribute ALL of my sass to my mother. My daddy’s got a little in him, as well. And fourth, Journey has an Asian lead singer now who sounds practically identical to the original.

Life lessons are everywhere, folks. Even at Rock N’ Roll concerts. 

M. 

 

Twist

MissMLeave a comment

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, as well as retail shopping lately, and it has come to my attention whilst immersing myself in deep thought and browsing through stores at my local mall, that besides amusement parks, malls are essentially the only places in this blessed country in which citizens can purchase themselves a soft pretzel. 

Now, I mean to be frank, but let’s get it together, America. Starbucks and McDonald’s really know what they’re doing-placing one of themselves on every corner. The accessibility for overpriced coffee and fast “food” is borderline ridiculous. All I want is one gosh darn Pretzel Maker within a 10 mile radius of my house, preferably with a drive-thru. 

I have a solution for this instance of injustice. I would like to propose that we replace 1/8th of the McDonald’s establishments with Pretzel Makers. 

I know it’s a matter of opinion, but I would much rather scarf down a carb-loaded, fun-shaped, cinnamon-and-sugar dusted mass of twisted bread than a grease ball of stuff that kind of resembles hamburger anyway. You could go as far as to say that I am passionate about pretzels. A pretzel fanatic. 

You better believe I am going to write a strongly worded, persuasive, and argumentative letter to Mr. CEO of Pretzel Establishments outlining how come we need a sharp increase in pretzel establishments. (Thank you, English 2010, for teaching me something that directly applies to the real world.)

 

Now come on guys, I know I’m not the only one fed up with this public issue. Join the cause. Petition for the Pretzel. Let’s bring about a concessional revolution.

‘Murica.  

M. 

A Pint of Broken Dreams

MissM3 Comments

20140417-201810.jpg

Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of stress-eating, due to finals week, my beginning of two new jobs, and a variety of other stress-inducing factors. Like many other members of team ‘eat your feelings,’ one of my number one go-to foods is, of course, ice cream.

In effort to save my waistline for the upcoming swimsuit season, I decided to purchase some kind of light version of frozen dessert, when I stumbled upon this little gem: Arctic Zero Frozen Desserts-chocolate peanut butter flavor.

I never thought I’d see the day that ice cream would disappoint me. But this imposter surely has.

So now, not only am I 5 dollars poorer, I had disappointment for dessert, and my sweet tooth has not been satisfied.

Readers, I’m telling you this because I love you. If you’re going to indulge, get the full-fat, cookie dough-loaded, peanut butter-drizzled stuff. You deserve it, and You’ll be happier in the long run, I promise.

M.

Mr. No-Good-For-Me

MissM7 Comments

Scenario: Boy finds girl on Facebook. Boy initiates small talk with girl via online messaging. Boy showers girl in compliments regarding her beauty and flawless sense of humor. Boy offers girl number and suggests that girl texts him. She does. Boy and girl continue flirtatious conversations over text message for a day or two before boy decides to ask girl on date.

Girl accepts boy’s offer. Boy picks girl up, does all the right things, makes all the right moves, and sweeps her off her feet. On this first date, boy kisses girl. A lot.

Boy and girl continue to “get to know one another” through virtually every medium, besides face-to-face interaction. Boy “likes” all of girl’s photos on social networking sites, continually complimenting her on her “foxiness” and playing the part of a gentleman with an infatuation for a lady. Leading her to believe that he has a liking for her. Girl decides that she likes boy, too, and begins to feel genuine fondness toward him. Gradually, the texts from boy decrease and the depth of their conversations shallow to virtually nothing. Weeks pass by before boy decides he’d like to see girl again. She agrees, and they meet up for ice cream. Boy kisses girl again. A lot.

But the interest that boy had in girl is no longer there. It takes some time, but girl finally realizes that again, she has been used and objectified. She realizes that the only motivation boy has in getting to know girl is so that boy can kiss her. Girl is hurt.

Okay, that’s not a scenario. It’s a real-life situation.”Girl” is me. And let me tell you, I am sick and tired of this scenario. I don’t know if this is a personal issue, but all of my latest suitors tend to think that it’s okay to kiss me on the first date. That it’s okay to string me along just long enough for me to think that there’s something there, and then back up until they feel like an M.O. session.

Admittedly, I am a phenomenal kisser. It really is no wonder why boys gravitate to my lips. (Joking, everybody.) But what boy is doing to girl is WRONG and unjustifiable.

Let’s start with the root of the problem: the kiss. And the lack of meaning behind it. I don’t know about you, dear reader, and I may be old-fashioned, but to me, a kiss signifies mutual feelings of affection toward each other. Notice I used the word “affection,” not “attraction.”

Unfortunately, far too often, the kiss is no longer a signifier for anything more than lust. But it still seems to hold its power to reinforce feelings of affection for the kissee to the kisser.

That was a lot of mumbo-jumbo. What i’m trying to get at here, is don’t kiss me until you are confident that you like me for who I am as a person rather than a pretty little thing to lay your eyes on, and are ready to show me that those feelings are there.

So here I am, confused, hurt, and frustrated, at myself, mostly. I am never one to initiate a kiss. But i’m not exactly one to stop one, either. But if he and I are not on the same page as to what  the kiss even means, then I am left to hope that our feelings are the same, and discover later that it was nothing more than a shallow action.

I guess that’s just one method of figuring out if a guy is going to be good for me or not. And now I know why my mom always insisted that I wait until the third date to kiss a boy. You were right, mom. I am now committing the three-date rule to a policy.

Good news is, I now know that boy is no good for me, and will no longer be giving him the authority to be not good for me. Lesson learned.

In summary, people suck. Watch out for the selfish and shallow. Trust only those who have proven worthy. It’s an every-man-for-himself type of world. And keep your walls high.

I apologize for my excessively cynical attitude. But I feel much better now.(:

Over and out.

M.

 

The King of Condescention

MissM1 Comment

I have met a male that is at least 12 times as “confusing” as the average female. I met this young man in none other than my Women’s Studies class, a class dedicated to stirring up its female-dominated audience against the patriarchy.(AKA my most favorite class I ever did take.)

From the first day of class, I would catch this gent staring at me from across the room multiple times per class period. After a couple of classes, I suppose he finally caught my full name, and found me on Facebook. We engaged in casual cyber-conversation after I’d accepted his friend request, and he attempted to flatter me by telling me how visually appealing I was to him.

The next day in class, the boy avoided any sort of visual or verbal contact with me. Things grew awkward really fast due to his deliberate “ignoring” of my presence. What? Was he embarrassed that he’d validated my suspicion that he thought I was cute? Naturally, I returned the favor, and, in attempt to increase the awkward tension, I avoided that boy right back.

The semester progressed, and so did the platforms in which the boy communicated with me, none of which included face-to-face interaction. One day, he found me on SnapChat. He then sent me a selfie with the caption, and I kid you not, “I want you. All of you.”

So here’s this kid who doesn’t even have the guts to have a face-to-face conversation with me. Telling me he “wants me.” These type of messages continued, and he repeatedly notified me of his desire to cuddle with me, kiss me, and most recently, go hot tubbing with me. It’s amazing how greatly your confidence increases when you’re safely sheltered behind a computer screen or mobile device. Because there is no way in heck this boy would approach me in real life and say ANY of these things in the hallway after class.

Don’t even get me started on the damage social media has done to our social skills.

Continuing on.

The other day, this boy wrote me a message on Facebook, asking a question on one of our assignments. I answered his question, to which he replied, “that’s what I thought.” I responded, “you thought right, champ!” to which he said “generally.” I sarcastically praised his humbleness, and in retaliation, he informed me that I was an arrogant brat.

At this point, I had lost my sh*t. I was infuriated. I went off, my fingers swiftly and forcefully pounding the keyboard. I told him that he had no right to call me that just because I’d damaged his ego in refusing to kiss, cuddle, or whatever else he wanted, with him.

He didn’t message me for a week or two after that little episode. Then, yesterday, I the following status: “GUYS. It is totally hot tub weather. Who’s in?”

Minutes after posting this, I received another message from this boy. He told me he’d “tooootally” go hot tubbing with me. I began listing reasons why I could no longer go hot tubbing. Somewhere within the conversation, he called me “sweetie.”

ATTENTION, EVERYONE: don’t you DARE call me “sweetie” if you wish to keep your larynx functioning properly. That is the most condescending thing you could ever say. “Sweetie.” That stupid pet-name is how mommies and daddies refer to and address their three-year-old offspring. That was an insult to my intelligence, age, and hinted that this boy thought he was either above me, or somehow a significant other who had the right to use gushy pet-names that supposedly indicate affection.

This boy, may I remind you, won’t even have a verbal conversation with me. What right does he have to call me anything other than my name? I am infuriated. And we will most definitely not be going hot tubbing together any time in the near future.

Don’t call me sweetie, or I will show you fifty shades of sour.

And also, if you think I’m cute, come tell me in person. I am the least intimidating person in the history of non-intimidating people.  Typing “ur cute” and hitting the “send” button means absolutely nothing to me.

M.