There is no need to tell you this. It’s not a big deal. I just want to get it off my chest. My drama, let me show you it.

Long story short, I know a guy who I counted as a good friend last year and most of this year. Last term, I realized that he is a narcissistic, chauvenistic sociopath. I came to this realization soon after his frat got into a hazing scandal in which they made a pledge take a picture with a fat girl as a running joke. That fat girl was me. I wrote a letter to my school newspaper about it. You can read it here. He never recognized this to my face (he was in the pledge class), nor did he or his fraternity ever apologize to me. It was one of the most painful things I have ever been though. There, you have been let into my life way more than you want or need to, all to give you context for this.

Today, I was walking out of a class with him when he suddenly burst this question.

Him: “So, do you ever do anything?”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Him: “Like, on weekends, hanging out, with people, do you ever actually do anything?”

Me: “Um, yes.”

That reply was lame on my part, but I was kind of overwhelmed by the out-of-the-blue absolute pure dickishness of the question. So, here is my late reply:

Yes, I do things. I don’t go out and get drunk and party every single weekend. Sometimes it’s because I don’t have plans. Sometimes I just don’t feel like it. Some nights I want to sit alone and read or even have a few friends over and have conversations. I know that these ideas are novel to you; please don’t be alarmed. I can tell that you’re easily overwhelmed, because earlier you were complaining to me, loudly, that you are going to be SO BUSY this weekend. Why? I didn’t ask, but you told me: you’re going to be out all night partying tonight, surely, because you live in a frat house. Then tomorrow you have to spend ALL DAY cleaning up your dirty horrible hellhole of a house, and then that night you’ll be out ALL NIGHT again because you live at a FRAT HOUSE and you just HAVE to party. Oh, God! And to make things worse, next Wednesday you HAVE to go to Chicago with your ex-girlfriend, who is, at this point, the only person in the world who can stand being around you, and even she harbors a secret hatred for your self-centered insensitive ass, and you won’t get back til 2 AM! Wow! It’s almost like Chicago is 3 hours away! Well, let me tell you, I definitely do not envy you for your insaaaaane busy weekend. I mean, I have to sit around and have a meaningful existence while you drink until you pass out and go around telling the same people, over and over, just because they have the basic kindness to pretend to listen, the same stories about the girls you hooked up with the first few weeks of college, and demean them and say they weren’t good enough for you. Remember about the third time you decided to tell me that story? I was sitting in a friend’s suite, worrying my head off because a close friend who had recently started taking antidepressants had underestimated how much alcohol would affect her in her new chemical state, and she’d promised to come by or have me pick her up and walk her home. You sat there and talked to me AGAIN about that time you went scuba diving. You’re right, you know. You are the most important thing in the lives of anyone and everyone around you. It’s an unfair world when we don’t focus on you and how interesting you are. I can hardly handle it myself. So you’ll have to find someone else to talk to about your sexual escapades, how mean your parents are, and how drunk you’ve been and will be again.

Fuck you, sir. Fuck you.