Passive aggression is probably my biggest pet peeve. Luckily, I am a man and passive aggression typically tends to be a woman’s weapon of choice. Unluckily, I am a gay man, so you can discount that last sentence entirely. Passive aggression is supposed to be a way for you to get what you want without directly asking for it, saving you from the fear of being disliked or rejected. To me, passive aggression is actually worse than upfront aggression, because it means you don’t have enough balls to stand up for yourself and tell a bitch that you feel some type of way.
Still, I know there are plenty of you out there who like to use it, because I have de-friended you all on Facebook. My mother always said if you are going to do something, do it right; so here are a few examples to inspire you to frustrate your boyfriend and make him say the magic words: If you don’t tell me whats wrong with you, how am I supposed to know how to fix it?
What you mean: “I will never, ever like you. You add nothing to anyone’s life.”
What you do: Just keep mispronouncing their name, calling them by the wrong name, or forgetting their name altogether. This will get the point across that they aren’t even important enough for you to string five correct letters together.
What you mean: “I am mad at you, honey. Is it that hard to put the seat down?”
What you do: Buy a bucket from your neighborhood department store. Put it in the corner of the bathroom. Then pee in it. When your boyfriend finds it and asks, just say: “I feel bad that I keep asking you to put the seat down, so I decided to just use this bucket like the second class citizen that I am. Want a hand-job?”
What you mean: “I want a raise for God’s sake. I was back to work 30 minutes after giving birth and I still got nothing but a Starbucks gift-card for Christmas.”
What you do: Keep working at your job for the next 15 years, dropping small hints about how qualified you are every time a promotion becomes available. Around your birthday, complain loudly about how tight money is, and how you wish you could just afford a new bra, since the underwire on your current boulder holder is one loose piece of duct tape away from knifing you to death. Eventually, your asshole boss is bound to get the picture, right? Right?
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