So… at the store this morning…
“Look at that ass! Nice child-bearing hips!”
I looked at him, but said nothing. I looked at him like he was an office memo and turned away. He didn’t take kindly to that response.
“When someone compliments you, you say ‘Thank you.’ and not be a bitch about it!”
Do I have an audience now? Yup. Okay. Time to play.
“When someone reduces my worth to if I’m fuck-worthy or not, I don’t bother acknowledging that person as someone worth being social to.”
“I’m just trying to be nice, you fucking bitch!”
“Then engage the intellect, and stop talking with your balls.” The women in the audience giggled. Some of the men hid their head to hide their mirth.
“Fuck you, bitch! You’re probably one of them dykes, anyway.”
“Sour grapes much? You can’t have the fruit, therefore it must be rotten? And if you define ‘dyke’ as ‘women that refuse to have sex with you’, then I am the Dyke Queen, Empress of Lesbiania, with a Ph.D. in Dykeology. And you, are now excused from my class.”
I turned and went down the aisle of the grocery store. He started to come after me, viciously cursing as he did so, but a man stopped him and said, “I’m married to a ‘dyke’, and am the father of a ‘dyke’, and it is my duty to make sure the Queen of Dykes is not fucked with any further by a little pissant like you. I suggest you leave, before you find out how many other men are fond of ‘dykes’ like her.”
He left. No one said anything directly to me about it. A woman did ask if I was lesbian, to which I answered, “Did it matter? Either way, he was off the menu.”. She smiled, nodded, and walked away.
I swear, I do not seek out controversy.
*applause and flowers for you*
Yes to ALL of this.