On Love and Sexism

A conversation I recently had with an egotistical asshole.  He really brought out the worst in me.  Keep in mind, I took some liberties with what may or may not have been said but I really feel as though this reflects the essence of the conversation truthfully.

Me: Hola!  I’m having a wonderful day but I am suspecting that that look on your face means you’re going to try and ruin it.  In any case, I am going to need you to pretty please take a  second look at my car.  It’s been making a helluva lot of noise since you finangled with it.

Car Man: You’re a woman so you’ll fall for this.  It’s your tires.  They suck and you need new ones.  That will be 6 million dollars.

Me: But you haven’t even looked at it yet!

Car Man: But I know these things because I invented fire.

Me: I don’t know…this seems suspicious and you don’t seem very nice so I’m going to furrow my brow.  What exactly do you think is wrong with my tires I just bought?  I’d like to try and wrap my head around the specifics.

Car Man: Maybe I should use smaller words and talk slowly because your breasts are clearly making it difficult for you to understand anything about cars.

Me: Cool.  Well, now I hate you.  I think I’m going to call my friend who co-invented fire so you two can talk the language of men and see if you can’t work out these issues.

Car Man: A male?  Well that’s a completely different story.  I’m going to change my tune and pretend like it has nothing to do with gender.

3.6 minutes later

Car Man: I’ve solved the problem in only 3.6 minutes because my male genitalia makes it easy for me to make uninformed quick decisions and also allows me to think they are 100% true 100% of the time.

Me: Cool.  That’s probably what I would have used my brain for.

Car Man: Here’s the run down.  First of all, you’re a woman so I’m going to give you a  look of contempt and only talk to your friend who has the same reproductive organs as me.  Second of all, since he is a bit delicate looking and clearly uses hair product, I’m going to see if I can trick him by pointing at things and talking about multiple issues simultaneously.

My Male Friend: Okay, but I secretly know a ton about cars and I’ve already decided not to believe a word you say. Not only because you’re shady but also because you’re socks don’t match and you reek.

Me: I’ll listen to what you have to say to be polite but I think you’re sexist so I’m gonna shoot you the eyebrow so you know I hate you.

Car Man: This right here means your car is falling apart and is doomed for life.  You need a new suspension even though the car really isn’t that old and when you drive it, it doesn’t show any of the normal signs that might signify that anything I’m saying to you is remotely true.  You also have shitty tires and I am going to prove this to you by pointing at parts of the tire that look different than the rest.  We can draw up an estimate for you.

Me: That won’t be necessary.  My tone is supposed to show you that I don’t trust you and that even if you were the cheapest auto repair place in 100 miles I’d rather eat dirt than let you touch my car.

Car Man: Okay.  Well then we will rotate the tires for you since we put them on wrong in the first place.  This will completely eliminate the noise you’ve been hearing 100% but because I think women are airheads and I really need your business I’m going to reiterate that you should replace your entire suspension.

Me: My spidey-sense tells me that you aren’t good at picking up on body language, are you?  I am giving you the stink eye now and the only way you can make me stop is by rotating my tires and letting me leave.

Car Man: I’m starting to sense that I’m in hot water with you.  I’ll tell ya what.  As I tell you that we will rotate your tires free of charge, I am going to use a tone of voice with you that accidentally shows you how dumb I think you are when I’m really trying to convince you not to report me to the Better Business Bureau or Angie’s List.

Me: Thank you for doing that.  I’d hate to have to cause a scene refusing to pay since this was your fault to begin with.

30 minutes later

Car Man: Here are your keys.  I’m going to throw them on the counter instead of handing them to you because I’ve given up trying to convince you that you should listen when men speak.  I’m also going to half-heartedly give my obligatory “Please come again” schpeal my boss makes me say, even though I know there isn’t a chance in hell you’re going to come back because I’ve been incredibly rude.

Me: Sounds good.  I’m going to ignore that sign behind you that says if you don’t offer an oil change than it’s free because I don’t even want you close enough to breathe on my car.

30 seconds later

Me: I’m bringing this muddy, sticky, wet, paper floor mat back inside your shop to throw away.  This is only to make a point that you were extremely careless when dealing with my car.

Car Man: Oh shit.  This couldn’t get any worse, could it?  I’m going to sigh because I’ve realized I have really screwed up but I still hate women.