If you want to get technical...
I’ve been trying to help Tiny understand for the longest time that being nice is nice, until it’s necessary to be mean. Key scenarios in which I’ve tried to coach her in this regard would include: the time she was felt up at a bar and didn’t kick the guy in the nuts because she “felt bad”, the time she worked 23 days in a row covering other people’s shifts at work because she “felt bad” saying no, the time a room mate moved out when I was out of town and didn’t leave his room in a good condition and she didn’t say anything to him because she “felt bad”, and most recently, the time we almost got evicted from our apartment because she invited 15 loud people to meet at our house before they went out and she wouldn’t tell them to be quiet because she, again, “felt bad”.
I’m finding that I’m coming off as a lot more of a bitch to people because I always end up being the one to speak up. Like when I told the beligerent guy at the bar that if he touched her again I would kick him in the face, and when I told our old room mate he better get his ass in gear and clean his room because I wouldn’t give his security deposit to him if it was filthy, and like when I had to walk upstairs from my cozy bed to tell the harem of college students home for the summer to shut up because they weren’t in a frat house.
But I don’t jump right to these harsh words. I’ve given fair warnings even when a fair warning wasn’t required. But I find I’m only taken seriously when I say, “Hey. Everybody. I’ve told you twice. It sounds like we’re hosting the running of the bulls up here. You need to be quiet, seriously! It’s 11pm on a fucking Tuesday. Shut up.” And then I have to bear the surprised faces of the crowd of people in front of me. It’s worse because they’re all my age.
It doesn’t make matters any better that I pull in the driveway at 10pm at the same time all the people are arriving at our house. They’re standing in our garage and I say, “Hey, what are you all doing here?” And they slur, already drunk, “we’re going out to Privelege. Want to come?” I say, “no thanks. I’ve had a long day at work. Have fun though!” And they say, “we’re not leaving. We just got here. We’re coming upstairs first.”
Well, Tiny’s not home, so I say, “why are you coming up?” and they say, “Oh, we’re meeting KT. She’s over at Bridgit’s.” “Well how were you planning to get inside?” I ask. Here’s my favorite part: one of the drunks say, “I have a key to your apartment. KT gave it to me a while back.”
What a stupid thing to do…
So, while the drunk kids (only 3 of which I even know…) are waiting for KT to arrive, I’m supervising them begrudgingly. They’re pouring drinks in our glasses, mixing them with sodas I bought for myself. Whatever. It’s the least of my worries.
I have my phone up to one ear and my finger up to the other to block out their hoots-and-hollers. “Hi. I’d like to make a reservation for this evening at 8 o’clock please. For 7 people, non-smoking…Thank you.” I hang up.
“Haha. Hey, do you realize you just asked for a reservation for tonight at 8pm and it’s 10:45pm right now? And there’s no smoking in any restaurant in California, cheesehead,” one of the kids I barely know hollered at me.
“Yeah. I do realize I said that. It’s because I’m calling Hong Kong and it’s noon there.” I explained. (I was making dinner plans for Michael.) But I wanted to say, “Yeah, I do realize I just asked that. Unlike you, I’ve been working for the past 12 hours and I’m still working at 11pm now because I’m trying to pay rent on this apartment you’re going to get me kicked out of because you’re loud and obnoxious and inconsiderate.”
Finally KT shows up. I tell her she needs to keep them quiet. She says, “OK. I will.” But she doesn’t. I said, “No KT. I mean, tell them right now to be quiet. I’ve already told them twice.” She says, “OK. I will.” But she didn’t.
I went downstairs to wash my face and read. Only I couldn’t because a gang of girls had infested our bathroom; foofing themselves for the night.
And round-and-round it goes. They didn’t end up leaving until nearly midnight when I called KT’s cell upstairs from my cell downstairs and said, “leave. You’re loud.” She said, “Sorry! OK. We will.” But they didn’t. They stayed for another 15 minutes.
I was exhausted from my day and all I wanted to do was sleep.
Tiny thinks she heals things by prefacing sentences with, “I feel bad,” or, “I’m sorry!” But she doesn’t. Because those things only heal hurt when the hurt wasn’t intentional or known about. You’re sorry for having loud people over at the house last night? No you’re not. Because you knew they were loud, I told you they were loud, and yet they stayed for 2 hours. You’re not sorry. You would’ve made them leave earlier if you were.
Am I wrong?
I was like how she is now in High School. I tried being everyone’s friend. I felt bad if I didn’t get invited somewhere. I thought I must’ve done something wrong. I’d let people be dicks to me if they wanted to because I didn’t want to speak up because I would feel mean if I did. Then I come to find out that some people just didn’t like me because I was an ass kisser. And they would’ve liked me more if I would’ve stuck up for myself.
It’s a stressful way to live. Someone’s always mad at you for no reason. This is why you need to grow balls. Because if someone’s mad at you for no reason, you don’t care. Because then they’re just being an idiot.
I’m finding that I’m coming off as a lot more of a bitch to people because I always end up being the one to speak up. Like when I told the beligerent guy at the bar that if he touched her again I would kick him in the face, and when I told our old room mate he better get his ass in gear and clean his room because I wouldn’t give his security deposit to him if it was filthy, and like when I had to walk upstairs from my cozy bed to tell the harem of college students home for the summer to shut up because they weren’t in a frat house.
But I don’t jump right to these harsh words. I’ve given fair warnings even when a fair warning wasn’t required. But I find I’m only taken seriously when I say, “Hey. Everybody. I’ve told you twice. It sounds like we’re hosting the running of the bulls up here. You need to be quiet, seriously! It’s 11pm on a fucking Tuesday. Shut up.” And then I have to bear the surprised faces of the crowd of people in front of me. It’s worse because they’re all my age.
It doesn’t make matters any better that I pull in the driveway at 10pm at the same time all the people are arriving at our house. They’re standing in our garage and I say, “Hey, what are you all doing here?” And they slur, already drunk, “we’re going out to Privelege. Want to come?” I say, “no thanks. I’ve had a long day at work. Have fun though!” And they say, “we’re not leaving. We just got here. We’re coming upstairs first.”
Well, Tiny’s not home, so I say, “why are you coming up?” and they say, “Oh, we’re meeting KT. She’s over at Bridgit’s.” “Well how were you planning to get inside?” I ask. Here’s my favorite part: one of the drunks say, “I have a key to your apartment. KT gave it to me a while back.”
What a stupid thing to do…
So, while the drunk kids (only 3 of which I even know…) are waiting for KT to arrive, I’m supervising them begrudgingly. They’re pouring drinks in our glasses, mixing them with sodas I bought for myself. Whatever. It’s the least of my worries.
I have my phone up to one ear and my finger up to the other to block out their hoots-and-hollers. “Hi. I’d like to make a reservation for this evening at 8 o’clock please. For 7 people, non-smoking…Thank you.” I hang up.
“Haha. Hey, do you realize you just asked for a reservation for tonight at 8pm and it’s 10:45pm right now? And there’s no smoking in any restaurant in California, cheesehead,” one of the kids I barely know hollered at me.
“Yeah. I do realize I said that. It’s because I’m calling Hong Kong and it’s noon there.” I explained. (I was making dinner plans for Michael.) But I wanted to say, “Yeah, I do realize I just asked that. Unlike you, I’ve been working for the past 12 hours and I’m still working at 11pm now because I’m trying to pay rent on this apartment you’re going to get me kicked out of because you’re loud and obnoxious and inconsiderate.”
Finally KT shows up. I tell her she needs to keep them quiet. She says, “OK. I will.” But she doesn’t. I said, “No KT. I mean, tell them right now to be quiet. I’ve already told them twice.” She says, “OK. I will.” But she didn’t.
I went downstairs to wash my face and read. Only I couldn’t because a gang of girls had infested our bathroom; foofing themselves for the night.
And round-and-round it goes. They didn’t end up leaving until nearly midnight when I called KT’s cell upstairs from my cell downstairs and said, “leave. You’re loud.” She said, “Sorry! OK. We will.” But they didn’t. They stayed for another 15 minutes.
I was exhausted from my day and all I wanted to do was sleep.
Tiny thinks she heals things by prefacing sentences with, “I feel bad,” or, “I’m sorry!” But she doesn’t. Because those things only heal hurt when the hurt wasn’t intentional or known about. You’re sorry for having loud people over at the house last night? No you’re not. Because you knew they were loud, I told you they were loud, and yet they stayed for 2 hours. You’re not sorry. You would’ve made them leave earlier if you were.
Am I wrong?
I was like how she is now in High School. I tried being everyone’s friend. I felt bad if I didn’t get invited somewhere. I thought I must’ve done something wrong. I’d let people be dicks to me if they wanted to because I didn’t want to speak up because I would feel mean if I did. Then I come to find out that some people just didn’t like me because I was an ass kisser. And they would’ve liked me more if I would’ve stuck up for myself.
It’s a stressful way to live. Someone’s always mad at you for no reason. This is why you need to grow balls. Because if someone’s mad at you for no reason, you don’t care. Because then they’re just being an idiot.