Douchebags are very interesting to me—and I am not literally referring to the douche, but instead, I am referring to a man that converses with me to a point that I consider him ultimately useless as a conversationalist. So, he was insulting me in a way that I might want to insult him in revenge. Instead of responding in a ravenous, defensive way, I simply said, “okay, maybe I am a girl.”

He said, “Well, you certainly seem like one, you’re very pretty.”

So, I made a courtesy, and then I grabbed the shoulders of my girl and said, “let’s get out of here.”

Later, my girl explained to me that we left at a very bad moment, a moment in which she was trying to consult one of her best friends. I didn’t care in the least, in fact, I simply wanted to leave, on any account: I don’t care about your friendships because a stranger has personally insulted me and I must leave on my own account.