I don’t have the audacity to be polite

I don’t have the audacity to be polite, to sit and smile at the gestures I dislike – when you infringe on my space without my consent, nudging me with your elbow, grabbing my hand, my wrist if you will, all to pay a fucking bill.

I don’t have the audacity to be patient, to entertain you in small talk, chit chats of how you’re this and how you’re that – to gaze at your continuing smirks, beholding your own ego.

I don’t have the audacity to be kind, to give you an explanation for not joining you on your lavish plans, to constantly think of reasons to say why I don’t want to have a drink. I’m not interested in trying your mulled wine, or going on a sunset drive. I just don’t want to – why is that not enough.

I don’t have the audacity to say yes – to lengthen my no-s, to drag them out pretending I am uncertain about this. I don’t have the audacity to say yes, just to be polite, in order to spare your feelings and to fucking smile when I say ‘no’.

I have no time for you. I have no time for the arrogance of men.