Fuck Off, I’m Reading (or, Why I’m Such a Rude Bitch)

*Note: this all happened over the course of a few months starting in January 2011, so while the events are all accurate, the quotations are not verbatim. However, they are accurate in tone and meaning.

Picture it: It’s a beautiful sunny day.  I’m sitting on a park bench with my boyfriend.  I’m reading, he’s quietly strumming on his guitar.

I hear him say hi to someone and I look up.

and that’s when I realize my bright sunny day is about to be less sunny and more “OMFG I don’t want to deal with this asshole right now.”

Now, I happen to be reading a damn good book at the time, and I’m at a really tense scene that I would rather not be pulled away from.  With most people I’d put the book down and try to participate in friendly conversation, but I tend not to extend this courtesy to my Mortal Enemies™.  Especially not Nice Guy™ Mortal Enemies™.  He’s kind of sort of friends with my boyfriend, mostly because my boyfriend doesn’t know when to tell people he dislikes to fuck off, so I discreetly cross my fingers and hope they’ll just talk to each other and let me read my book.

No. Such. Luck.

“Hey, whatcha readin’?”

“A book.”

“What’s it about?”

“Psycho Axe-Murderers who kill people who interrupt them when they’re reading.”

Mortal Enemy smiles smugly.  I can hear his thoughts- what a bitch. His brain is saying. What did I ever do to her?

Well Mortal Enemy, let’s back up a few months and I’ll tell you.  Might want to take a quick bathroom break.  This is a long story. Continue reading

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