Story Sent in by Denise:
Rudy and I were out together on our first date on a Saturday night. He was a complete chauvinist, asking me several times if I was really an engineer. He said, "I've never met a female engineer before. It's like seeing a unicorn, or a male housewife, you know?"
When I informed him that most of the people who worked in my office were actually female engineers, he believed that even less. To be fair, it was a small branch office with only four people.
His words were ignorant and disrespectful, although they weren't constant, and we had a few other things in common. Give him a chance, I thought, It's just one date...
Things took a dramatic turn for the worse when our waitress took our orders and he made as if to slap her ass as she walked off. He didn't actually slap it, nor did she see it, but he turned back to me with a smile, which then turned into a reddened face, once he saw my reaction. "What?" he asked.
I replied, "You're probably the biggest pig that I've ever met." I said it with a smile to soften the blow, and it probably wasn't a smart thing to say in any case, but I was tired of keeping silent.
He said, "It's not my fault for things being the way they are. I was born a man. You a woman. The waitress also a woman. All the engineers in your office, women. I can't change that. Have a problem with it? Go back to the hospital where you were born and have them change it for you."
That stunned me into silence for a good, long while, which was probably just what he wanted. He told me all about his schooling, his jobs, and his past relationships. All through dinner, it was all about him.
I offered to pay, to be polite. He considered it for a moment, then said, "Okay." Hmm.
On our way out, he had second thoughts. He rummaged through his wallet. "Here, let me give you some of that back. I should've paid for everything."
I replied, "Don't worry about it."
We had stepped outside by that point, and his voice raised a bit. "No, you're the woman. I should've paid for it completely."
"I really don't care. How about–"
He said, "You weren't born a man," pulling out a few bills and jutting them in my direction, "Go back to the hospital you were born in if you don't like it. I mean it. Take the money."
I said, "It's really okay. I just want to–"
He grunted, threw the bills to the ground, flew past me, and opened up his car, parked just nearby. He reached into his glove box, which was stuffed with papers and brochures. He pulled out an envelope, a pen, and a stamp. He wrote, "HOSPITAL" in big capital letters on the envelope, held it up so I could see it, stuck the stamp to the middle of the envelope, slammed his car door shut, stomped over to a nearby mailbox, opened the envelope, put it on his head, like a hat, climbed on top of the mailbox, opened it, and jammed his leg inside as far as it would go, which wasn't very far at all.
"I'm doing it. I'm really doing it. I know what you're thinking," he began.
That you're insane? I thought.
He continued, "This isn't enough postage. Well, I'm loaded enough to mail myself, and so if the mailman comes on Monday and says I need more postage, then I'll pay him right there."
I replied, "What if the mailman's a mailwoman?"
"Shut up!" he screamed, then turned his attention to shoving his leg a bit more into the mailbox. I left him there, and to be honest, I don't even know if he realized that I had gone, and that I had, in fact, scooped up the bills from where he had tossed them.
Story Sent in by Denise: