God, the sheer number of men who respond to the slightest possibility of having their authority threatened by immediately getting into my personal space and ~looming~ pisses me the FUCK off.
Simple fucking requests. "Sir, I'm sorry, you can't smoke in front of the clinic, would you be able to move just a few feet over there?"
Next thing I know this fucker, a full head taller than me and an extra half my weight is chest-to-chest in my breathing room, unblinking, mouth tight, dead eyed, smiling empty. "No actually, I think I'll finish it here. That okay with you?"
Like, what, a tiny lady young enough to be your kid has the balls to request you go slightly out of your way for a second, and you feel outraged? Feel like you need to muscle down and prove you don't listen to anyone? Fuck you.
Like, shit, you think I need a ~reminder~ that you could kick my ass if you wanted to? You think I'm not aware of that every second of my goddamned day?
Just about every adult man I meet could plough me into the ground. You think that makes you special? Think that makes you tough?
I spent the first fifteen years of my life with a bastard like you. Spent a decade and a half with a grip on the back of my neck and tight, gritted teeth asking if I could "meet them outside for a second".
Do you think this is new to me? Do you think nobody's ever tried that before? That I grew up in some vapid, oblivious bubble where my every wish was granted until I met *you*, and hero that you are, you're going to be the one to finally give me a reality check about naggy little women who can't mind their on business?
You think you're the first one to ever "Put me in my place"?
See, some of us don't have the option of being big and scary and automatically feared and respected.
SOME OF US have to be patient, and considerate, and polite, and hold our ground and hope to Christ that we can trust the bigger, stronger, more powerful people to be reasonable, be considerate, be merciful.
You shitless son of a whore. You think you can scare me? You don't know what fear even is. You've never been small and helpless a day in your life, have you?
You wouldn't be able to handle it, being like me. Being weak, being second-best, being ignored and ogled and treated like a fucking decoration, until I say or do something that isn't cute or funny, and then I'm no better than a child having a tantrum.
I would carve out your eyes to have you understand the shit I've been through. I would dangle you off a ledge and have you beg, knowing worse than the fall would be surviving, knowing how it feels to be at the mercy of someone who has none. I would have you live the rest of your life feeling that piece of you that goes missing.
I hate men like that. I loathe them. Big and loud and brainless animals, all puffed up like roosters in a henhouse.
Big, strong, manly-man. What exactly do you bring to the table? Can you cook? Clean? Mend clothes, fix furniture, build a house? Do you make beautiful art or music? Do you bring joy and wonder to the world? When you die, will those who survive you mourn the loss, celebrate the life that made theirs brighter?
Or are you just some oily, swollen fuck, here to turn food to shit and drink to piss, stick your dick in something and die, like an animal?
Get out of my fucking face.
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