No good deed goes unpunished. For some reason, being a humanitarian is just not quite enough. For the 53rd edition of the Friday Follies, please put all projectiles out of reach for the duration of the post. Put all liquids out of reach. Truly. The stupidest inbox in the blogosphere is dubiously open.
One of the benefits of online life is the ability to be true to one’s character without the repercussions the FAB world routinely delivers in the forms of judgment, ridicule and cruelty. Apparently, my subscription package does not include this particular benefit.
Every man with a flicker of interest asks a relevant question: Are you (married, divorced, single)? In the first steps of identity at the beginning of a relationship with the possibility of (friendship, intimacy, animosity). See, we need to know which jokes will be well-received, and most of us have no desire to say something kindly referred to as stupid.
If you missed the Widowed Blog Hop, you may not know I am a widow. It means we have never connected on any social media, you know none of my children, you have never read an online profile I created and you were not listening (or reading). Spammers the world over, particularly in China and India, all know I am a widow.
Besides the American knee-jerk reaction of “I’m sorry” (for which I fill in the blank why someone is sorry because it makes me giggle), I have encountered some behavior heretofore which either did not exist or was adequately hidden from my hearing and sight.
If you have ever seen the logo above, you know for a fact I am full of questions. I love questions. I love to ask them so I learn something. I love to answer them so I teach something. Despite all the query love, I am a firm believer.
Let me list a few of the questions which have followed my truthful answer of No, I am a widow.
- How did he die? (which is code for the next question)
- Have you already served your time?
- Did he deserve it?
- Did he die with a smile on his face?
- How much life insurance did you get?
(Pauses for initial reaction to subside.)
If the very first thing you ask me is about my net worth, we are so incompatible I will have a hard time forming complete sentences dumbed down enough for you to understand. It did take a bit of effort; fortunately, it took no discernible time between the query and the answer. Do you think this conveyed the proper message to Mr. Gold-Digger?
The cheapskate only had a $3M policy. What was I supposed to do with that? My family had to pay their own airfare for the funeral. Just went to show how much he cared.”
This should effectively dispel the myth all whores are women. His I’m sorry really was I’m sorry I could not be there when you cashed the check so I could show you how to be tax-refund-rich.
Remember in the opening where I talked about appropriate humor? Mr. Sensitivity is one who clearly misunderstood my finding humor damn-near-everywhere. If your interest is in my sexual prowess or the depth of my depravity, there are far more appropriate ways to discern it than this particular question, like reading my books or flash fiction.
No, he was kinda bummed I would not cowgirl. I have an aversion to catheters, and I am slightly squeamish about necrophilia.”
This creep’s I’m sorry was really I’m sorry you cannot fulfill my fantasy of being the victim of a sexually sadistic serial killer. I may be willing as long as we drop the sexually and serial modifiers.
My position on capital punishment aside, without knowing the circumstances it is impossible to judge if someone deserved death as retribution for their contribution to a life of which no details have been supplied or requested. What do you think I told Sparky?
The jury hung, but when they were polled, ten voted guilty. I think if they had three more days, they would have reached a verdict.”
Aside from what is revealed in Killing Us Softly, my relationship with my late husband is not a subject for a first encounter. Sparky’s I’m sorry really meant I’m sorry I could not meet you in time to convince you to cheat on him so I could toss you out when he died.
Talk about guilty until proven innocent. Since assumption is as much art as science and considering the number of facts not in evidence to support this question, it took me an extra 2.6 seconds to formulate a response to Mr. Assoomer. I had to quit laughing.
LOL! What do you think Witness Protection is for, silly man?”
Just because I am on an Internet dating site does not mean I am beaming to you from a remote correctional facility. This dill weed’s I’m sorry translates to I’m sorry I was not there to rescue you by hanging the jury. Although it was my first instinct, another instantaneous translation is I’m sorry you have because the smell of conjugal trailers turns my crank.
Delivered in the proper tone, contextually placed within an earnest conversation, this question is not out of line; however, when it is the opener with no other contact, to exclude such niceties as asking my name, it is inordinately creepy. The answer to Mr. Prior can be construed to indicate all manner of sociopathy and a few psychopathies. From the panorama of choices, my response?
Part of my plea arrangement includes a non-disclosure agreement. The only way you can find out is to read the disposition, which I conveniently keep under the mattress with my other souvenirs. I am such a softy. Love never really has to die if you know what to keep.”
Let’s get interactive. What is the real meaning behind Mr. Prior’s I’m sorry?
A. I’m sorry, but my real interest is in how to get away with it.
B. I’m sorry I only got through Altar Making 106 before I flunked out of Stalker U with Trolling for Victims 202 and Nonchalant Aftermath 219.
C. I’m sorry I cannot post your picture to the Widow’s Calendar, but your profile does not contain any nudity.
Thank you for joining me for the 53rd edition of the Friday Follies brought to you from the stupidest inbox in the blogosphere. I hope your week has been free of hatemail, inbox Lotharios and serial killers… well, except for me. *giggles*
What does Mr. Prior’s I’m sorry really mean? When did conversation die and why was I not invited to the funeral?
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