Airing Dirty Laundry Part Two

"Give me something to break."

I hardly ever initiate grown-up playdates. Normally, my DNA prevents me from reaching out first - call it fear of rejection or shyness or whatever you want. Everything from happy hour to movies on the couch, I'd prefer to be asked instead because I always say "yes" or "no thank you" in a way that rarely leaves the inviter scorned. It's a skill I wish others would learn. Not perfect by any means, I simply try to treat people the way I'd like to be treated. Which is preferable to the bullsh*t below. Breaks down like this.

I send a breezy email saying: My children will be with my parents Saturday night - would you like to hang out? Let's do something fun!

No response.

Everyone knows I'm solo-tipping it here in town until our house sells so we can join hubby in Colorado Springs. Throw a sister a bone. Instead, I get nothing.

So I send a snarky wink and a poke several days later: You haven't answered my email. Weeeeak. :-)

(Yes, I am a fan of the properly placed emoticon.)

The long-awaited response: I've been busy and cannot do anything this weekend and will not make plans beyond that.

I know! For those of you in the Clueless Realm, inhabited by *ssholes and fat f*cks, a nicer response would have been something like:

"Of course I'd love to hang out with you, but previous commitments preclude me from doing so. Some other time, sweetie!"

Any variation of the above theme would do, you miserable piece of sh*t. And get along with the old "I've been busy" excuse. It carries no weight because I'm an extremely busy:

- mother.
- teacher.
- writer.
- political activist.

In addition to ALL THIS, I talk on the phone with spouse, siblings, parents, and best friend on a daily basis. I keep in touch with countless pals, relatives and acquaintances through emails and IMs. I make small and deep talk with co-workers and even the girl in charge of after-care for my kids! I also exercise every night and catch The Daily Show without coffee or narcotics to keep me going. Then I sleep for about seven hours. Did I mention my house is spotless?

I know. I rock. And you don't. You suck. Don't tell me you're too goddamned busy to hit a reply button. It's insulting and dismissive.

It's not the first time this has happened, but rest assured it will be the last. A polite response takes about seven seconds (I counted) and can be accomplished during a commercial break. Christ. This is why I'm nice to people who ask me out for a date. And also why I often refuse to do the asking.

I'd rather be alone.