I am sick and tired of middle-aged women abusing and taking advantage of me.
Just because I'm polite enough to offer you my seat, or help you with whatever you're carrying, doesn't mean you get to unleash your bitchiness on me.
A few days ago, I was at... Let's call it an event, with two of my friends.
One went to the ladies room, and I put my hand on her seat and sort of leaned on it. It was very crowded, and I felt I needed to save her seat.
So I'm talking to my other friend, and suddenly this (you guessed it) late-40-early-50-something year old woman comes over, and without even looking at me, brushes my hand aside and sits down in my friend's seat!
"Umm.. Ma3laish 5alti, ana 7ajza hatha ilma7al l9a7ibti." (Excuse me, Ma'am, this is my friend's seat. I'm saving it for her.")
"La, 7abeebti, hatha ma7alina i7na min zaman." ("No, my dear, this has been our seat for a long time.")
And she looks over to her imbecilic friend, and gives her (what she thinks is) a sly smile.
"You see this woman next to me?" I say in the loudest voice possible (without sounding like I've lost my mind.)
"Yes?" Replies my friend.
"She just stole Lulu's seat."
"She thinks she's so tough. You know, I hate how our society makes people think the older you are, the more you can boss people around. Just because she's "seen the wold" (yeah right) doesn't mean she can take out her frustrations on teenage girls. She doesn't know this, though. She think she has a right to my seat. She thinks the more she gets up there the more important she is. She thinks she is automatically respected by everyone. She doesn't know that in your 50s being an ass is being an ass. She probably thinks she's polite and civilized..."
And so on.
I don't even know what I said exactly. I just went on till she got up and found herself another seat.
I don't think I hurt her feelings, I think I annoyed her.
A few moths ago I picked up my cell phone and a (middleaged) woman shouted: "Lulwa?"
"No. Wrong number."
"What?! Who is this!??"
"Uhh... Who's this?"
"Don't ask me who I am. Let me just speak to Lulwa."
(Laughing) "Lady, you called me. I get to ask who you are. And this is not Lulwa's phone. It is my phone."
"Well I called Lulwa's phone not yours. Put her on."
This is what I have to put up with. I have to give up my seat to depressed, pushy old women (not because there isn't enough seating, but because she feels like harassing some young blood), or make Lulwas appear out of thin air for her majesty the queen of the deranged.
The middleaged should grow up.