Just a second to vent

Excuse me, miss.  MISS?!?  MA’AM!!!??!!!

Just what the hell makes you think that I was opening the door for you?  I’m coming in from the garage and as I open the door, out of the damn blue, you come storming through from the other side and damn near knock me down.  “Thank you” you say as you’re brushing past me.  I was admittedly a little shocked into silence.  What was I supposed to say?  “Your welcome, I guess, except I neither saw you there so please forgive my feeble attempt to dodge your inconsiderate self as you veered off your original path and through the door I was attempting to walk through”?  Sure, you’re old, so the strain of opening a door on your own may have been a little much.  Maybe that’s why you were headed for the automatic button equipped handicapped door.  You practically had your hand on the button when you saw this strapping young man about to enter the facility, so I guess you decided you weren’t handicapped afterall and were merely helpless?  That’s fine. 

I guess I can see why you turned from your path and went past 4 perfectly good and properly functioning doors to walk through the one I was presently about to occupy.

I’m not saying I wouldn’t have opened the door for you.  But you could have at least given me the opportunity to step back a little, or maybe even to the side and actually offer you the passageway, rather than dropping your shoulder and pointing that bony thing at me in such a threatening manner, you old hag.  As it was, I wasn’t even offered the opportunity to make a kind gesture.  Thankfully there are plenty of women out there without the grand sense of entitlement you managed to foster within those dusty old bones of yours.  Thankfully there are plenty of women out there who are still willing to be the kind of person someone is actually willing to open a door for, and not some nasty beast who demands that the next open door is one they’re going to go through, offered or not.

 

You old hag.

 

Ok, all better now.  Things like that really chap my ass.  I don’t mind opening a door for a girl.  In fact, I don’t even mind INSISTING that I do.  But if YOU INSIST that I do, that changes everything.  You’re hand ain’t broken.  Your arms work just fine.  It’s the difference between being gracious and being your servant.  I’m not your servant.

During a particularly dreadful date eons ago I realized that this chick (not my current wife), who I was happily opening doors for, was actually waiting for the door to be opened rather than accepting my kind act.  We would come to a door and she’d slow down just a little so that I’d get there first and then, naturally, open it.  It’s a fun little ballet me and my wife do even today. 

Eventually we made it to some door and the coordination was off for some reason and she got there first.  Instead of doing the sane thing and simply entering, she just stopped, turned around, and started chatting.  I thought she was just in a talkative mood, so I chatted, too.  She finally said “So, are you going to open the door?  Or is the date just over?”  Excuse me?  The answer to that question is obvious.

At that point I decided to do a little experiment at the end of the night.  I got in the car and she stood there.  I reached over and unlocked the door and she just stood there. 

So, I drove off. 

And she just stood there.

Don’t feel bad for her.  I’m sure she found some bootlick to give her a ride; I didn’t date her for her mad intellectual skillz.