Catastrophe: Men Who Don’t Communicate! Grrr!!!

Let me start off by saying that today’s post was supposed to be a positive, uplifting one touting the good graces of a man I encountered in the most unfortunate of circumstances who is literally one of the most cheerful people I’ve ever encountered. But alas, I’ve run into another piss poor example of yet another man who’s a wack communicator.  Instead of getting in his face and GOING OFF (as I have a tendency to do when I get ANGRY) or perhaps tossing a liquid/beverage in his direction, I’ve opted for the healthier alternative: venting in the form of written prose.

So, let’s go back to Mother’s Day 2011. I was leaving my apartment complex en route to find a gift bag and tissue paper for my mother’s gift when a big old Chevy Venturer backed into the corner of Montey’s (the name of my car) front bumper. The damage was minimal as ultimately there just wound up being some chipped paint. The driver happened to be a 17-year old girl on her way to church and because she was so apologetic and sweet I told her we could skip calling the police. By filing a report her insurance company would be contacted and then she’d have an At-Fault Accident on her record-that is detrimental to a teenager’s insurance rates. Instead I opted for getting an estimate from my dealership and having the teenager’s family pay the price.

After getting the estimate and pricing together, it was arranged for Montey to be dropped off today and that he would be ready some time tomorrow afternoon. I let my younger brother know about it so that he could pick me up from the dealership and bring me to work (we work in the same office for the family business). He said okay. He and I spoke one last time yesterday and even this morning he sent me a text asking, “What’s up?” (Remember, I said men are LOUSY communicators) which I knew was him checking to see when I would need him to pick me up.

I hit him back letting him know to meet me at the dealership in 15 minutes. I got no response but again, I thought nothing of it. Why? Because most men are LOUSY communicators! So I pull up and still, little bro is a no-show so I decided to call him (I couldn’t expect for him to call me now could I?). Why? Because most men are LOUSY COMMUNICATORS! And then when I call him and told him where I was and did he get my text, do you know what that negro said? “Well did you get my text lol? [Yes, ‘lol!’ That little chitterling wasn’t taking me seriously. BIG mistake!] I’m at work now so you have to ask the Man [our Dad] if I can leave to come get you.”

I hung up the phone.

On him.

I breathed.  I speed-racered it back to the office.  Upon walking in I spotted the assailant of my frustration, anger and resentment….






Of course this is not my first occurrence with men being wack communicators but darn it, I’ve reached my boiling point! I can’t take this mess anymore!!! Where do men get off on randomly not responding to messages/calls, not being accountable for the things that they say they will do or not communicating their intent/what’s really going on?!?!

Why did Little Brother not say two words about scheduling and work until it was too late!? Why would he do that!? Like why!? Why?! Somebody. Tell. Me. Why!?!?

I’m pissed. Yes, this is a build up. Yes, I’ve officially exploded. But better on my blog instead of through vicious words to his face.  I don’t do him like that…ever!  When he needs me for something I am clear about what I’m gonna do, I’m there for him and he knows he can rely on me.  This mess pisses me off, ugh!

And after writing all of this, instead of feeling better, I’m angrier. Of course writing this makes me think of other instances where men were lousy communicators and I would love to write about all of those as well but I’ll spare you. Ultimately it’s the same crap, just a different toilet.

I’m out.

P.S. I went ahead and skipped the middle man and asked Dad to handle it…and he did. Tonight after work and tomorrow I probably won’t have anymore issues out of little bro. He feels bad now. As he should!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s