What's the average man's tolerance for intrusive questions?

It's a good question...something more people ought to find out for themselves. But I'll go ahead and tell you the answer. Relatively none. He does however have no qualms about asking intrusive questions. Allow me to relate a recent episode from my life to illustrate.





I'm in local mega store with Yeager and I'm minding my own business. I don't seek out contact with strangers ever. Suddenly from behind me I hear "You don't look blind." How's that for an opening to a conversation? Lovely manners don't you think? On my bitchiness scale I was at Stage Two - Dour before this started but his opening gambit pushes me directly to Stage Six - Irascible...a stage that is likely to cause others to feel uncomfortable before the encounter is over.

I spin around to face the voice behind me and see a rather large man standing there with his hands on his hips staring at me.

"Excuse me?" I said.

"You don't look blind." He says, pointing a fat finger at me, closing the distance between us a little.

"Thank you." What else was I supposed to say?

"So," he says undeterred from his mission, "what's the dog for?"

"He helps me when I need it." I do not feel the need to give more information than this. Sometimes I am willing to educate people about service dogs but I don't like this guy's tone of voice so I'm not feeling benevolent.

"What's wrong with ya anyway?" he says eyeing me up and down trying to figure out why I have a dog with me. He is clearly disturbed by not being able to come up with the answer on his own and he wants me to fill him in.

I make a point to stare at his crotch then slowly look into his eyes. He is unnerved by this. He didn't expect it. He is like a mouse under my paw. He just doesn't know it yet.

"How often do you satisfy your wife in bed?" I ask flatly.

He turns a bright shade of red and stammers "Wha? Wha? What?"

"Well, you don't look well-hung so I'm wondering how well you do in bed. Is your wife satisfied you think?" I ask.

He is shifting uncomfortably now, looking at the floor and breathing hard. He was not ready to be asked this question. He didn't expect it.

"Look here Little Girl, I don't know why you'd ask me something like that. Didn't your Mama teach you no manners?" A vein in his neck is throbbing fast.

"Oh," I say, sounding innocent "I thought we were taking turns asking intrusive and rude questions. Was that not the plan?"

He is dumbstruck. He looks at me with a mix of horror and embarrassment. I smile sweetly and ask him if there is anything else he'd like to ask me. He stammers something unintelligible and turns on his heel. He retreats out of sight quickly and I go back to my shopping.

Bitchy? Probably. But there is a breakdown in our society of politeness and manners and while I could have explained that he was over the line and being rude it's unlikely he would have listened. As it was, he will remember that interaction for a long time and maybe the next time he opens his mouth to ask an intrusive question his cheeks will burn a little and he will close his mouth.