Sofa King Wee Todd Did
I’m in the mental health profession so I can’t just go throwing the term “retarded” around all willy nilly and nimbly bimbly. But what IF… my little rascals, what IF that is the only accurate way to describe someone? I’m all for scientific integrity. And (fortunately or unfortunately) accurately labelling or categorizing individuals is a part of keeping the discourse fluent between professionals. When a psychiatrist uses the term “depressed”, for example, they want to make sure someone from another profession, such as a physician or a social worker, has a relative understanding of what that term means. They should be able to paint a picture of what that individual’s symptomology would look like and how it presents. So yes, labels have their merit. And the label I choose for THIS particular individual is retard.
Or more colloquially know as: Someone who has a case of the dumbs. The good ol’ fashioned dumbs.
My standards have lowered below sea level since moving to my town of schooling. So essentially anytime I meet someone who is in a relatively appropriate age range the answer is yes. Just shh. shut up. You’re 30? Yes. Yes is the answer. So I gave my number to someone when I was on shift as a server at a local bar. I usually wear glasses and he mentioned something to me about how I shouldn’t wear glasses because my “eyes are so beautiful”. Okay, so he doesn’t really know how to compliment. But whatever, he’s foreign (some sort of something or other) and he’s 30. Literally my two criteria at that point.
Shortly after the digits exchange, it was winter break and I went home for a week. When I returned to my school town, I was faced with tons of work and exams for 5 days straight. Needless to say this dude wasn’t exactly a priority. So when I finally finished my take-home exam on a Friday after being up for 36 hours straight, slept and went directly to work.. I hadn’t had a chance to respond to the text he sent on Wednesday.
Well SOMEONE…. let’s call him Sala. Oh wait, that’s his real name. Shit. I should totally erase that and fake a pseudonym. But… maaaaaaaan its so many letters away now. Let’s not. So Sala was NOT impressed with my lack of texting and he decided to take it upon himself and come into my work, inebriated, and inform me of just how unimpressed he was.
When he first approached me in his hot-headed fervour saying “YOU NEVER TEXT ME BACK” I thought he was joking. Because, of course he’s joking, no one acts like this. So I laughed. Once I realized he was serious I semi-explained I was super busy and then arm motioned to my surroundings while stating “Also, I’m at work..soooo”
YOU MUST TEXT PEOPLE BACK WHEN YOU SAY YOU WILL! TWO DAYS I AM TEXTING YOU AND YOU DON’T REPLY.
“uhhhh dude… are you serious right now? You are honestly acting so unreasonably confrontational. This is kind of hilarious”
ALSO YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD NEVER WEAR YOUR GLASSES!!
“Oh my god. Are you normal? Like are you a normal person? This is how you act?”
YES I AM NORMAL. YOU ARE NOT TEXTING WHEN I SAY TO TEXT… *goes to pull phone out as if to show me his phone..*
“Okay well I’m at work” I say in my most saccharine, condescending voice “So why don’t you calm down, and we can talk about it later. Because you’re being very weird right now. Also, I would NEVER promise not to wear my glasses because I would never let anyone tell me what to wear”
He leaves and ended up calling me at 4am even more fucked up than he was when he came in. He kept saying the same thing over and over about how I didn’t text him and about how I shouldn’t wear glasses. He literally told me not to wear glasses like 8 times out of context. After the 7th one I couldn’t take it.
“Sala, listen to me. Fuck you. Don’t ever tell me what to wear. I don’t give a shit if you like them or not. Eat a fucking dick. You are a psycho and you are an abuser and I am no longer interested in seeing you again. Ever.”
*click* (altho modern phones actually don’t make a clicking noise now do they?)
Then my roommate came out to ask if I was okay. Because I yelled eat a dick super loud. Hehehheh.
Two days later he comes into my work and orders a drink off of me 100% pretending he confused me with the waitress that had been serving him for the last 20 minutes. Stared at me totally blank. AND I was wearing my glasses! His arch enemy of apparel. I died laughing on the inside. Like, how cute? He totally is pretending he doesn’t know me. I didn’t entirely rule out a neurological deficit or anterograde amnesia out of my diagnosis at this point.
I see him 3 other times. Once he was getting kicked out of a concert. He saw me with no glasses on that time. He probably creamed himself. Two other times were at my work where we both effectively ignored each other with the exception of him commenting under his breath as I walked by (with no glasses) “wow. so better without glasses“…. like is he doge? Did DOGE try to date me??
Weeks later and he decides to talk to me again, trying to text me and call me. I told him I am not interested. He told me he will still try and ask me out every time he sees me. I told him I will say no. He gave me 5 bucks for no reason at work. I took it. The next time he tipped me 20 after I brought him some drinks. I also took it.
Then he texted me. “DAYOOOOM you looked wonderful tonight. #1“.
Next week his doge punk ass better give me 40.