Erin, who writes the blog South of I-80 IS nice. She's adorable and kind, so much so that when I asked her to write a guest blog, she was all over it. But being nice doesn't mean people can fuck with her. She's tuff. How does a person find balance? How does a person manage to be delightful and decent without being a doormat?
Fuck if I know. I'm still working on that. But Erin's insight rang my bell, made me think. Speaking of nice, thanks for the kind words and emails asking about how things are going. Means a great deal to me. Now enjoy this awesome goddamn guest post.
“Well, he wanted me to tell you… he thinks you’re too nice and kind of a prude.”
“What’s a prude?”
“You know… like someone who is like… good, or wholesome. I mean he’s right, you don’t even swear.”
“So HE is telling me that I am too good for him? Shouldn’t I make that discovery on my own?”
This was a conversation that transpired more than 20 years ago with one of my best friends. I was in 7th Grade, and I had a crush on a boy named Frank. My friend was reporting back to me after talking to him. Basically, she was telling me that I wasn’t slutty enough for this moron.
Since when is being good and unslutty a bad thing?
This was not only my first glimpse into the idiot mind of a tween/teen boy, but also the first time I was truly aware of who I was as a person.
It was like seeing for the first time how other people saw me.
To be honest, I was ok with it. In a world full of skanks and negative backstabbing bitches, I was just happy to be different.
I felt like I had completely beat the system. I was being nice, and I was being a rebel at the same time. People expected me to be like the other girls my age: crazy hormonal witches. When everyone else was trying to piss off their parents and cause a ruckus, I was being a good kid. I was what everyone teen wants to be. I was different. I mean come on: coming in after curfew, smoking, drinking, sneaking out. It’s been done.
Being a nice responsible kid? What a novel idea!
As time went on, my “reputation” started to precede me.
In High School, I was a teacher’s delight. In cross country, (I sucked terribly athletically) I was an awesome teammate who was constantly cheering for everyone and was awarded the 110% award more times than I actually beat anyone in a race. While I was not popular, and I didn’t date much (ok at all), I was ok with it. As Mindy Kaling says, “Who wants to peak in High School?”
As a teen, my parents pretty much let me do what I wanted because my moral compass was extremely sound. Even my friends kind of knew when not to include me in something because they absolutely knew I would never participate in anything that was considered “bad”
When I met my husband, he said that my positive outlook on life and the mere fact that I was kind and nice to everyone who came across my path is what initially drew him to me.
My sister once even told me that I was the nicest person that anyone would ever meet in anyone’s lifetime.
This image of me while its nice, it is only a portion of who I am. You see, there is a very frustrating aspect about being a prude wholesome, goody two shoes. It is that while most of the time I truly am positive and rarely rant about anything, people think that I am too sweet to get angry.
When people hear me drop the eff-bomb, they giggle. When I furrow my brow, people think I’m being ironic. When, I rant, people think I’m practicing a sketch for Second City.
While this isn’t so bad in itself, it does have a HUGE downfall.
I am put into the, “Let’s walk all over this dumb bitch” category.
Well today, I am here to lay it out on the line for everyone. I do get angry sometimes. Just because I am kind to people around me, thoughtful, and I guess a bit of a prude in no way makes it ok for you to treat me like a doormat.
I will (figuratively of course) cut you.
I am not a person that can be your dumping ground for things that should be your job. I will tell our supervisor when you are taking advantage of your authority over me. I will not be getting an oil change for you on my lunch, buddy boy.
I am not the person that you consistently are 20 minutes late meeting. My time is valuable and I will leave our meeting spot after 20 minutes unless a call or text is made to me with a lengthy apology.
I am not the person that a cab driver should take the long way around because I seem nice and friendly. I know it is only around 8 or 9 dollars to get to LaSalle Street station and I will NOT tip you and I will give you a shit review on UBER.
I am not the mom that you can say, “Three in three years? Well, I planned out my pregnancies and decided my children should be spaced apart as to give each child attention.” I will later on during the game remark to the other moms about how ironic your comments to me were considering your phone is plastered to your ear and you didn’t even notice when your child screamed in pain after getting hit in the face with the ball.
I am not the person that will tell you its ok to cut in front of me in line at the check out even though earlier you saw me hold the door for a bunch of people trying to get into a Black Friday Sale. I will call you out and make you look like a fool in front of thousands of sleep deprived, overly stuffed, people looking for a sale at 2:00 a.m.
I live by a simple mantra: Give respect, get respect. Be nice, and I will be nice to you.
I am not a doormat.
I am nice.
There is a difference.
Get it straight, or I swear to William H. Macy, I will destroy you with my quick wit and snarky remarks.
I will totally go South of I-80 (LINK TO SOUTH OF I-80) on your ass.
Have a good day!
- Name has been changed to protect the stupid.
- Every school has them, even Catholic school.
- This means having the car, not having a curfew, and going out on school nights.
- So much for individual attention.
- Some people are not worth the Lord’s name.