Yes, I Will Punch You in the Throat...

People get on my nerves with all their judgments about me, which are really more accurately mis-judgments.

If you know me personally, you know by now that when I don't want to be bothered, it's written all over my face.  You probably also know from reading me that I'm not a person you physically back into a corner without regretting it.  I don't respond well to aggression, and by that I mean any kind of aggressive tone in your voice, posture or movement. 

No, I don't walk up to random people and punch them in the face for no reason.  But yes, if you put me in a position where I feel like I have to physically defend myself or be hurt, then I will most certainly punch you in the throat.  Have no qualms about it.  More than likely I'll follow that up with a kick in the head once you bend over in pain, too.  I'm just saying.  

No, I don't walk up to random people and pick verbal fights with them.  Wait, I do.  No, I don't!  No, wait, I do, but that's only on Facebook, doesn't count.  So, I don't PHYSICALLY walk up to people and pick verbal fights with them.  But, yes, if they choose to engage me - then 8 times out of 10 we're going to go at it.  Verbal evisceration is my thing.  I'm very good at it.  I like it.  Sue me.  

I digress.  What I would like most in the world right now (besides a million dollars, a silent yet cooperative baby-daddy and a vehicle that doesn't currently smell like dog's ass), is for people to let me have my little moments of pissiness, anger, or literary vitriol without making dumb judgments.  Or, if ya gonna make 'em, at least keep 'em to your self. 

Yesterday, I made the bad decision to stop at the ghetto Wal-mart right after work.  It was on the way home, I needed something specific, and I would have had to drive out of the way during rush hour to get to the hoity-toity Wal-mart, not to mention pay $2.00 more for the product.  Yes, the Wal-Mart by Lake Wylie charges more, because the hoity-toity people can afford to pay more.  My bank account is not currently earmarking any hoity-toity funds and it therefore directed my black ass to the ghetto Wal-Mart. 

So, I'm in Wal-Mart, and there are masses upon masses of people.  People stepping on my foot, people banging into my cart, people not paying attention to where they were going, it was crazy.  It would have been a perfect time to bring the camera for several submissions to www.peopleofwalmart.com, but I was on a different mission.

I get my items, and head to the register.  Long line, so as I'm waiting, the lady behind me was ALL up on my ass.  If there was more than an inch between my ass and her body, that would be news to me.  I didn't say anything though, just kept trying to inch up and keep as much space between she and I as possible.  It's irritating that some people don't understand and respect your personal space, but I dealt with it.   I updated my FB status to say something like it would be a miracle if I got out of there without having to punch anyone in the throat.  Meaning, the lady on the verge of involving me in an impromptu ass-raping Wal-mart sex-tape fiasco without my permission (or contract) was gonna get punched in the throat if she didn't back off.

 But, after moving and putting a hunk of shopping cart in between us, I make it through the register and with a sigh of relief begin to make my escape.  A man suddenly steps in front of my cart, forcing me to stop walking.  From the register, I'd seen him earlier sitting on the benches in front of the bathrooms, just sitting there, looking lost and just a tad bit pointless.  As I walked past his bench, he decides to stop me. 

He says, "Excuse me, miss, I just have to say.... you're a beautiful woman."

"Well, thank you.  I appreciate it."  I replied while backing the cart up just a fraction so I could swerve around him. 

As I started to push forward again, he backs up and steps over in front of my cart again.  "You ought to let me take you to dinner."

"No thank you, I'm not interested."

"You married?"  I saw his eyes dart quickly from my face to my left hand, checking for a wedding band

Well shit, there goes that excuse.  Clearly irritated now, I replied, "No, but I do have a boyfriend, and I'm not interested.  Thank you."  I'm moving the cart now, again having to back up first so I can go around him. 

He says, "Oh, well, you're not married, so I still have a chance.  Let me help you out to your car with your groceries."

I had three bags in my cart.  Idiot.  Your game is wack, and tiring.   "Umm, no you don't and no, you can't.  I'll be fine, but thank you."  Finally, I swerve enough that he can't just sidestep and block my cart when I move. 

I'm walking past when I hear him call out, "You know you're breaking my heart right?  My heart is broken!"

I shake my head and keep walking.  As I'm about to encounter the oxygen tank wearing, hover-round riding senior citizen door greeter/receipt-cop, dude mysteriously appears by my side. 

"Well, I'm going to walk you to your car so we can talk about this."

*Record scratch*  He's about to do what?  For a split second, I thought about shouting into the door greeter's hearing aid ear that this man was harassing me.  Then, no, I should tell him I saw dude steal something, I'd probably get a better reaction that way.  Then I thought, again, he's about to do what?  Follow me to my car?  Oh, no the hell he ain't!

I stop my cart again and turn to the side to look him fully in the face.  In the most dangerous voice I could muster, "Man, if you follow me out to my car, I WILL fuck you up in the parking lot.  I promise." 

His mouth dropped, the what I'm sure he thought was a charming smile faded, and he just stared at me.  I stared right back.

He started backing up to go back to his bench I presume, and with a nasty sneer said, "That's what's wrong with black women these days anyway, don't know how to take a compliment."

I'm thinking, really?  Really?  Harassment is not complimentary, and it certainly ain't sexy!  No means no, and if you don't understand a verbal NO, then I'll show you a physical NO that has my foot attached to it.  Maybe you'll understand that. 

Game over.  I had what I needed, which was him getting out of my face and my space, and I went on out the door with just a quick glance behind me to make sure he wasn't following anyway.  On my way to the truck, I typed a quick FB status with what I'd just said to the man. 

And the commentary that flowed forth (from that and the previous status) was all about me being violent and someone asked if I needed anger management.

What the?

Do I need anger management?  I've never claimed to be a gentle soul, never.  But, I think I handle my anger pretty gosh-darned well.  I need for men to leave me alone when I've made it clear I'm not interested and don't want to be bothered.  I need for men not to waste 5-7 minutes of my life trying to convince me to go out with them when I've already said no.  I need for bustas to leave me the hell alone and not try to get aggressive with me.   That's what I need. 


I let ya'll have your moments, let me have mine, I'll get over it quickly, and everything will be all right.  I'm good, you're good, we're good, all is good.  If not, well, come over here and violate my space so I can punch you in the throat.

~N