Wrenspeaky it was not.

A word to the three boys I was planning on eating dinner with tonight:

I am still hurt. In fact, as you may have noticed, I have been on crutches for the past two days. The physical therapist telling me to try walking anyway does not magically mean I am better, it just means that the physical reminders of my injury are no longer going to be strapped to me wherever I go.

With this in mind, maybe you can understand my irritation when I fall behind on the way to dinner and I see you turn to check where I am... and then keep walking. If I yell "hey, if you guys want me to walk with you, you'll have to wait for a couple seconds; I can't catch up," the proper responses are not any of the following:

1) To keep walking. (Okay, so technically, but I'd prefer it if you waited, you know.)
2) To yell "Are you saying something?" then laugh and keep walking.
3) To yell "Maybe you wouldn't be so far behind if you didn't keep fucking talking." And then keep walking.

Now, because those are the wrong answers, I am going to no longer feel any desire to be around you. So, if I yell "Fuck you!" and turn around to go back to the house, don't act so shocked.

"Jesus, Wren, I was fucking joking."

I'm sure you were. Unfortunately, I am not your Indian grandmother, so I will not be walking 100 feet behind you on the way to the SUB. I'm also not going to take lip from you because you're impatient with me and my inability to walk quickly right now.

They probably weren't thinking about it, but I am still upset at all three of them. Just because you're in Guy Mode doesn't mean you're allowed to turn your brain off and become Ug the Testosterone Excretor. A little compassion never hurt anyone.