Some days I think: Estrogen makes people crazy.  Some go insane for having it, and others go insane for putting up with the ones who have it.   

     There’s some proof to it, too.  Just look at space shuttle astronaut Lisa “Robochick” Nowak.  She was charged with attempted murder and accused of plotting to kidnap Colleen Shipman, who she believed was messing with “her boyfriend,” space shuttle pilot William “Billy-O” Oefelein.

     Estrogen, all the way.

     The last few months, I’ve had a lot of great experiences with women.  Paramount of these has been talking to ex-wives and ex-girlfriends, and just kind of making sure the air’s totally clear.  One hundred percent closure, making sure we’ve said all that we ever needed to say to one another, and generally cutting through the years of crap and getting back to the business of being friends again.
     I’ve hung out with the usual suspects, as well, and generally had a great time.  Pirate Chicks rule, because we get together, laugh at everything, and pretty no subject is sacred.  No drama, so for the most part, they don’t really fit inside the Estrogen-Crazy bubble.  Yay!

     So here’s the weird stuff from the last week:

• A young girl decided to create overly dramatic situations involving violence towards other people, just to see how I’d react.  Me, being old, realized it for what it was.  I died laughing as I walked away.
• A bartender/server decided to sit down uninvited, start flipping her drink on me, calling me names, and when I decided I’d had enough (I was mean back — heh), she decided to say I’d poured a drink on her (never happened!) and send out a couple of guys to attempt to cause me physical harm.  Laughed all the way to the car.
• A pretty hot one my age decided to get all weird, complaining that she’s boring, not very smart and too old.  “Oh, and I’m fat.  I need to lose weight.”  At that point, I couldn’t help but laughing at her 115 pound, skinny butt, and of course, she got more than a little pissed off.  She told me to copulate myself, or words to that effect.

     Ones like that are pretty easy to just walk away from.  Drama, drama, and more drama.  Life’s too short.

     Sometimes, tho, it’s people you care about.  Friends you’ve known for years, people you talk to on a regular basis.  You let your guard down with them.
     Last Saturday was a case in point why I shouldn’t.

     I liked hanging out with “Elle” for a couple of weeks, getting to know her.  She was good fun, enjoyed movies and we could pretty much talk about anything.
     Eventually, though, the conversation became nothing but self deprecation on her part, having an extremely poor opinion of herself.
     Me being a guy, and wanting to fix things rather than listening to constant complaining, I reminded her about what she’s accomplished in her life, the fact that she’s a beautiful woman, and that she needs to just relax and take things as they come.
     Of course, she felt that this proved her point that I’m “smarter” than her, and that she’s “an idiot,” and I’m “a jerk” for making her feel so stupid.
     Finally, I just told her:

If you wanna get along, we’ll get along. If something isn’t working, I’ll try and fix it. But don’t you dare come over here and kick me in the balls for caring enough to try and make you feel good about yourself.

     Sad, really.  I liked her, and she didn’t.  You can’t do anything with that.
     Haven’t heard from her since.

     Later that day, I was talking to a friend about it, and I’ve known her for about twelve years.  I was decidedly a little down about the whole Elle situation, which, according to the people I’m around most, just isn’t like me.
     “You don’t know how to date.  You never have.  You’re too sexual,” she says.
     When I consider that she’s been a friend for twelve years, and I’ve never been sexual with her, and she’s seen me go in and out of some pretty intense relationships, I couldn’t help but wonder what man pissed her off that day.
     “Hmm, okay,” I said.  “I guess ya never knew me.”
     I had to walk away and ponder that one.

     Next, I hit a few more of the same.  Grave “observations” about myself and my personality which were clearly aimed at someone else entirely.

     And then, finally, I was talking to “Kay” online.  We talk occasionally, haven’t ever dated or even talked about it.  But she came out with a winner.
     “You hate sex.”
     A minor argument ensued, and I said, “Ok, well, on that note, I’m gonna call it an early night.  I’ve had enough of that kinda thing today.”
     A little dishonest of me, perhaps, but I just wanted away from that silliness: I hung out with a couple of friends for rest of the night.  We discussed.  We laughed.  We always do.  😉

     The aftermath of the Kay-thing got funnier tonight, tho.  It has changed and twisted so many times over the last few hours that it’s hard to figure out, from moment to moment, what, specifically, she was angry about.
     It all started earlier tonight when she asked if I was “still in a grumpy mood” (which I wasn’t actually in one to begin with), and I responded laughing:

I was in a fine mood [Saturday night]. Just had four of “you people” (you ones with Estrogen) giving me shit that day, and I had more than I wanted or needed of those judgemental statements with no basis in reality. 😉

     Well, apparently that was enough to set her off, even with the smiley, the subsequent laughter, and outright assuring her there was no mean-spirited intent to any of it.
     Estrogen Logic (the oxymoron) dictated that I was the one who was being grumpy the other night, since I didn’t feel like putting up with insults.
     It apparently also dictated a few other twisted things that made no sense, but I’ll digress them to her since I don’t understand them.
     I mean, I am male and all… *rolls eyes*  😉

     But all grumpiness aside, when she finally realized that I wasn’t really bothered (I didn’t care), it was the “judgemental statements with no basis in reality” wisecrack that really got to her.
     But, hey, she let me know that I live in a screwed up reality, where I’m an unhappy whiner who never has any fun.
     I’ll bet I would be, since I also “hate sex.”  😉

     WHO KNEW?!?!

     So I have to ask … I’m dying laughing the entire time I’m writing this, because, to me, it’s funny.
     Should I go over to these peoples’ houses and search their basements for Pods…?

     Nah … they’re tough girls.  They’ll probably get over it.

     Then I’ll laugh at them some more.  😉