I really had no choice.

I really had no choice but to let you into my office, considering that you were there to install my phone and Internet service.

I did not invite you in and I did not want you there.

You simply didn’t notice how painfully awkward I found that conversation and how hard it was for me to continue to be polite.

When I smiled, listened or laughed awkwardly – it was not because I was the slightest bit entertained. In fact I was really mean to you in my head. When you asked where I lived I was shocked and appalled. The tightrope walk it took me to avoid answering you questions should have been the indication you needed not to ask me where I lived for, or if I was single, for the second time. In fact that kind of made me want to call the police.

I resent you for the personal questions but I hate you because I felt so obligated to be generally polite to you. What moral code do I feel bound by that requires women to smile and node no matter how out of line the MARRIED slim of an excuse for a man is?

I hate you for the fact that I was nice the entire time that you were out of line. I really felt it was the kind of situation where it should have been appropriate to slap you, raise my tone of voice and say choice words while escorting you out of my office. If you were allowed to be so inappropriate, why am I not allowed to respond in kind?

I curse you everyday for the fact that you were more focused on a way to work ‘ Telling me that what I need is to date a married man’ into the conversation, TWICE, then you were on installing my service…which…still…does…not…work. At what point did you not notice that I was avoiding all eye contact while answering all 20 questions with one-word answers.

Why did I not slap you, twice, and why am I so sure that the next time a slimy pig pulls a similar trick the majority of graceful women in the workplace will smile, nod, avoid eye contact, and be undeservingly nice while you write your number on the receipt and say “ in case you want to date a married man”.

Screw you.

Now who’s going to finish hooking up my router?