I have a lot of pet peeves. If you know me well, you can recognize that I have irrational hatred for silly things like when a person's jeans get stuck in the back of his shoes. I also possess a very strong dislike for Gisele Bundchen and Monica Keena. Neither of these people change my life on a daily basis, but I'm bothered by them.
However, one thing I hate more than any of the aforementioned items is when someone assumes that I'm stupid. It's frustrating to me when someone feels the need to point out the obvious or express commonly held knowledge. The worst is when a person starts to tell me something and prefaces the statement with, "You don't understand."
Please, please don't tell me what I already know.
Remember not too long ago when I blogged about men and the Swingers syndrome? Guys that can't pick up a phone to call without checking the days off on their calendars... Well, said guy - let's call him (ummmm....) Stan - did actually call. My phone rang, when I wasn't expecting it to, four days after we met. At that point I had pretty much figured he wasn't going to do anything about it, so I was a bit surprised. Stan and I had a nice conversation that lasted nearly an hour. We covered a range of topics and even discussed some things our matchmaker didn't know about him. I would be lying if I said I was completely taken by the chat, but I was interested in hanging out and getting to know him. Stan explained that the following week was his first full week back at work (he's a teacher), and that he would be busy that weekend with his younger brother's 21st birthday. While he thought his weekend might not be completely booked, we made plans for the following Tuesday instead. No specifics were set, but he did say we would talk later in the week.
Somehow, during the course of his oh-so-busy week and partying for the 21st birthday, I'm guessing Stan decided he wasn't really interested. Maybe he decided that on the phone and making plans was his way out of a conversation. Who knows? Needless to say, I didn't hear from him later that week, that weekend, Monday night, or Tuesday - the day of our supposed plans.
Readers, I am not dumb.
It's more than obvious that he made the decision that he was not going to take me out.
Really, Stan, it's okay... I let it go and figured he was an idiot. An idiot that also has to see our matchmaker (and my best friend) every day at work.
The impetus for this post came about an hour ago. Via text message (just a note, when you need to convey something with any value, using a text message is the most cowardly option).
Stan: Hey. I don't think I'm interested in dating right now. I'm sorry. Hope you are well.
Wow... A couple weeks after we spoke, and I'm supposed to be thinking you're still going to call me with grand plans for a date? Sorry.
I want to be clear - this is not about being bitter. This is about being angry that a guy would assume a girl is so dumb and desperate as to be hoping and waiting for him to take her out for a date. Please, don't insult my intelligence and figure that I haven't already answered those questions about you on my own. Also, it helps if you don't tell your matchmaker that you are absolutely serious about dating when you're absolutely not.
Often, things are better left unsaid. At this point, Stan, you really could have just left it alone instead of making a poor attempt to save face. You were already crossed off in my book.
"That boy there, well, he's playing a fool."
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