Who Gave You Permission?

Ever wonder who gave someone the impression that it was okay to ask you the most asinine of questions available to them? Is there a moment when they ask themselves, is this appropriate or any of my fucking business in the first place? I ask myself this all the time. Here are some of my favorites...

I go to the gym. I know, you think I talk about this too frequently. It's my fucking story, just listen. I'm going somewhere with it, I promise. This is where I introduce Grant. 

I met Grant three days ago. Grant approached me after a particularly strenuous treadmill run. I don't know about anyone else, but the last thing I want to do after a workout is talk to someone while I'm dripping sweat. 

He casually walked up to me at the paper dispenser; the one you use to wipe down your sweaty-ass machine after use. Standing there, dry and ready to start his workout, he asked, "Hey, how far did you run?" I'm drenched. I sound like I've been sucking from the tailpipe of a 1971 diesel Chevy Silverado that's been rolling coal. I stare blankly at this dumb motherfucker. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm Grant." He puts his hand out to shake. 

Um, Grant, is it? Let me make a couple of things clear. Your name is the last of my concerns right now. Let's start with why you think it's cool to approach and ask me some personal shit. I didn't ask you how many sets you did and what kind of weight you were pushing, did I? No, Grant, I did not. Do you know why Grant? Because weirdos do that shit. 

I do not shake Grant's hand. Instead, I wipe sweat from my forehead and armpits. Real classy. 

Maybe Grant would like my average pace and how often I run too. I understand my rationale is a bit extreme for most of you. The way I see it, the gym is for working out. If I wanted to chat, I'd come prepared and bring my own buddy. I wouldn't partner up with a stranger here. That's how people get stabbed in alleys and rot dismembered in luggage. Grant's probably not a killer. I think I can bench more than him. That's not the point. The point is: where does this line of questioning stop?

Hey, Grant, my husband and I have sex on Wednesday's if you want to pop by and inquire as to which position is my favorite. Dinner is usually right after if you want to stick around, but you'll have to help with the dishwasher - those are the rules. 

I need a sign to wear around my neck that clearly reads: Don't talk to me - ever. Don't ask me stupid questions - ever. Life would be much simpler for me this way. Maybe I just need more sessions with a therapist. 

How does that make you feel? I love getting asked this question by someone I'm paying to help me make sense of my feelings. Here's an idea: I'm paying you, how about you tell me what the correct answer is? Then I save myself some money and you, the undoubted torture of having to listen to my bullshit. Everyone comes out a winner. 

You know who isn't a winner? The loser at the grocery store checkout lane behind me that asks, "Have you tried those yet? Do you like them?" after seeing one of my purchases. If I answer that I have tried them and, yes, I like them - sometimes I'll hear, "Oh, really? I didn't like them." THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU ASK??? I understand if you're trying to get an idea about a product you've never tried, but if you have and you don't like them, keep your shit to yourself - ESPECIALLY if you find out that I, in fact, do like them. You jackass! I don't recall asking for your opinion. 

Where's my sign? I'm just not fit for social interaction anymore. Can I retire from life? Can I spend the rest of my days watching daytime television and phoning the HOA for minor infractions made in my complex? I think I'll just walk around CVS and ask the store clerk what their opinion on all the products are and then argue with them for the hell of it. While I'm at it, I'd like to see the store manager about the length of these receipts. You are killing trees and doing irreparable damage to the environment. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves! 

By the way Grant, it's still none of your fucking business how far I run. Worry about your own damn workout - maybe you'd see some better results, okay buddy?