The Intolerant Progressive

 ”Laugh out Loud”…those three words which make up the acronym, LOL.  You know, that thing we all tend to type as our thumbs move at lightening speed across our smart phone keypad.

As a reader to those letters, you get the point that the receiver finds whatever you are talking about, funny.  It’s a great way to let someone know that you cracked a smile or even chuckled to yourself a bit.  BUT, what does “LOL” stand for LITERALLY?…I was (un)lucky enough to experience it for myself the other night, during dinner at a restaurant.

I sat down, with my favorite person, and began to discuss what we would like to order. “LOL, LOL, LOL”…the people sitting right behind us, began laughing hysterically.  No biggie, right?  Well, let me continue —>

We ordered our food and began small talk about the days events, and literally every 30 seconds this guy began to “LOL”- and I must stress the second ‘L’…it was more like, “LOL”.  Don’t get me wrong, I love to hear people laughing with friends.  But, when it is constant and very loud in a small restaurant, you begin to stare at the person and wish terrible things upon them.

As we wrapped it up, paid the bill and stood up to leave, the guy continued to “LOL”…we looked at each other and couldn’t help but “lol” ourselves, (quietly).

It’s summertime and with the sunny days and warm weather, many outdoor activities are held.  With this, brings concerts and plays in the park, where all types of people gather to enjoy the ambiance of entertainment and nature as one.

Many of these events bring people into close contact with each other…chairs and blankets are scattered about the lawn, picnic baskets in tow. How could anything as light and fun as this bring about any intolerance, you ask?  Let me paint the picture of my most recent experience…

ahhh, Shakespeare in the Park.  Gorgeous June evening with me and the love of my life, off to take in a period piece play on the hillside of Forest Park.  We arrived early to ensure we laid claim to a prime 5’ x 4’ area of lawn, where our blanket was tossed ever so perfectly. At least three feet on all sides from the nearest fellow play-goer, gave me the ‘comfort zone’ area I needed.  We took in the peacefulness of the evening as we set out wine, cheeses, bread and fruit.  With everything this perfect, what could possibly annoy me?

As it got closer to the start of the play, we watched as the ‘odd ones’ began to fill in every inch of the lawn- they had no ‘space respect’.  Groups of three and four people were throwing down blankets with reckless abandon in 2’ x 3’ spaces between people who thought they were going to have a relaxing evening.  And as I sat and watched, befuddled by the annoyance of these people around me, I felt something fuzzy hit my leg.  To my left, a very large woman and her friend decided to squeeze in next to us, or should I say ‘on’ us- she didn’t even have the decency to leave one inch of space between her blanket and ours.

I looked over at my partner with annoyance on my face, as she laughed and told me “it will be ok”.  Over the next ten minutes, people began to squeeze in all around us- I made the conscious choice to not let this put a damper on the evenings events.  The play began and all was well.  We gorged ourselves with delicious food, took in the scenery and weather and even though my comfort zone was being threatened all around me, I was going to keep my annoyance at bay.  And then, the lady went all out…she leaned back, hand all on my blanket, fingers touching my leg w/ out a care in the world.  As I stared a hole in the side of her head, she relaxed further, even grunting as she rolled shamelessly into my space, exhaling along the way.  Is this really happening, I thought?… yes, people are strange, just as I always say and they never cease to amaze me.

My comfort zone was truly tested that summer evening, but I am proud to say that I passed the test.  We left full, entertained and relaxed, with a funny story to remember forever.

Well, they always say that people write about what they know, so let me start by saying that “I know having kids is not for me”.  This established thought is not because I’ve been busy building a professional life. Nor is it because I’m a lesbian and it would be too difficult or expensive to get pregnant or adopt- first of all, I have no desire to be fat, swollen and pregnant with a kicking fetus inside of me.  The after body results of such trauma is something that I think I’ll just avoid.  I can say that if I somehow developed an overwhelming desire to parent a child, adoption is the way to go, sans the desire to create ‘my clone’.

I have always been a girl —> woman, who cherishes her alone time.  It’s such a great feeling to know that you are able to do anything you want, all your shit is ‘your shit’…no kids are walking off with your cell phone to play games, they’re not bitching because you want to watch something other than the Disney channel and your laptop only visits websites that don’t cause it to be constantly invaded with viruses.  You can have ice cream bars in the freezer for more than 2 days, and of course you don’t spend seventy five percent of your day telling another human to “brush their teeth”, “throw away their trash”, ”leave my stuff alone”, and the list goes on.

Children are necessities in life- without them, we would ourselves, not be in existence.  But, I’ll go ahead and leave procreation to the masses…I’ve never been one to ’do what everyone else is doing’.