Because “Nice” Isn’t Getting Me Anywhere


The title of this post is meant to be somewhat ironic because, for anyone who knows me, the word that first comes to mind when describing me isn’t “nice”.

The fact is, however, that I am nice. I don’t sound nice, I don’t come across nice, but when you notice what I’m doing for you, or to lessen your burden, or go out of my way to help you, especially when the chips are down, I am actually quite nice.

I’m not the kind of person that will help you move; I am the kind of person that will help you move bodies…until my patience runs out with one leg still sticking out of the shallow grave yet to bury. But that’s usually because I’ve already done all the work so far. It’s only one leg left and I got you out to the desert to begin with, and dug most of the grave so, you know, good luck on the rest and quit whining.

But because I will pick you up in a Tijuana jail at 3am, I tend to get taken advantage of as much as the nicest of people. Actually more so, because of the whole shallow-burial-thing, you now think I’m going to come clean up all of your messes; that we’re bonded for life; or at least will be doing life together. And outwardly nice people tend to not get taken advantage of as much because they’re seen as too nice to take advantage of. Me, being outwardly bitchy, people tend to think I have it coming. Not true, mean reader, I don’t. Next time, you break your own victims knees to get them in the trunk yourself. You’ll see how nice I’ve been.

Lately, shit has been handed to me hand-over-fist. People have just been rude, domineering, selfish, self-centered, and expecting me to take it. Which I have. I’ve been letting them take their crap out on me because…yeah, that nice thing. I’ve been allowing bad behavior to continue because of my empathy for their struggle, which has let their crap go unchecked.

Boundaries are an issue. I either haven’t stuck to them, and let others run rough-shod, or I haven’t had any at all to cross. This isn’t good.

Because you do have to teach people how to treat you. And it’s possible to teach them poorly; by either letting them stampede all over you, learning as they do that they’ll get away with it, or by stampeding over others and thereby teaching them to you in-kind. I’m guilty of both.

But, there is a better option: exemplify the behavior you deserve, and will tolerate, and fuck all to whomever doesn’t do the same.

This recent uncharacteristic submissiveness on my part was a wayward, erroneous, misguided attempt to mitigate my fears of having mistreated people in the past. Misguided because I realize the mistreatment some people say they have received from me isn’t because I’m a horrible bitch deserving of punishment. The mistreatment they think I have given to them is because they are, in fact, self-centered assholes. Because when my patience runs out and it’s naptime, even though I’m covered in dirt and sweating profusely from digging a shallow grave in the middle of the desert for their latest “whoops”, these people still have the audacity to complain about my lack of commitment…while leaning against the bumper of my car, telling me where to dig, with an ice-cold iced-tea in their hand that they “forgot” to bring two of.

These are the same people who are suddenly too busy to take me to the store to get Febreeze and fresh tarps seeing as my car now smells like their myriad collection of dead bodies.

Such as the asshole who called me last night to tell me, even though she admitted knowing tangentially of my current difficulties,  she wanted to, “punch me in the face,” for not calling her back so we could, “talk”. After the second “Fuck You, Molly,” I hung up on her and rightly so. How her behavior makes even a little sense to her is baffling.

But it did spark this burst of self-reclamation. It is the kick-in-the-pants I needed to stop the bullshit. I have wonderful friends, in spite of the assholes, two of whom told me that same morning how much they loved me and to hang in there. Thank you, Erin and Robin. Those two friends, and others, in combo with this asshole’s outburst, made me realize how much I need to get my mojo back. How much I’ve been letting people fuck with me. How much I’m not going to take anyone else’s entitlement to treat me like shit. And the realization that I ever let it happen to me. Me. Molly, the “Unfuckablewith”. Thank you, Ash.

So, a gentle warning to those who try to continue to be disrespectful:

You pull your shit on me again, I’ll fuckin’ cut you.

Not literally. I’m not going to jail for you. I will however cut you out of my life. Or, barring that extreme, you will experience the stabbing pain of a Molotov cocktail-filled diatribe and razor-sharp barbs honed personally to cut you to your soul. If you have the strength after that, you can decide if you’re going to attempt that shit again.

Ask anyone who knows me and the words that first come to mind when describing me, “nice speech” is certainly among them.