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Unfiltered Story #242137

, , | Unfiltered | August 18, 2021

Not Always Related or Not Always Friendly
“mother doesn’t know best”

(It is January, I am 23, and my New Years Resolution is to judge people less and sympathize more, because my mother is a massive gossip in the worst of ways, to the point of putting us in literal danger. Her behavior is often so bad, and so loud, that I choose to make her angry at me so we don’t get attacked by the people she talks about. It is important to note that I have almost no respect for my mother due to a lifetime of abuse, and I am only visiting with her because she spreads awful rumors about me if I don’t visit enough, which result in our family abusing me because they believe her. The latest rumor is that I’m addicted to illegal drugs and doing an outpatient therapy, and she promised to tell everyone she was joking if I had dinner with her).

(My mother and I are out to eat at a local bar and restaraunt. It is about 7pm. We are waiting for our food now, and at the bar are three men, each having beers with their dinner. The men each have shirts advertising a nearby tattoo shop).

Mom: *in a mood, at full volume in the relatively quiet bar* LOOK! At those ALCOHOLICS.

Me: *whisper* Quiet down, they might hear you. And one beer at dinner doesn’t make someone an alcoholic. You’re literally drinking a jack and coke right now.

Mom: *still at full volume, now turned to face the men at the bar* But they’re from that tattoo shop. They probably do the tattoos drunk and spreading AIDS! They’re so disgusting and low class!

Me: *matching her loudness, using prior knowledge* According to the internet, they’re one of the most respected shops in the area, and they’ve got special accreditation that isn’t even required by the state. That says nothing but good things about their business… And I’ve actually been there for an evening event. After 5pm, they only do consultations and art auctions.

Mom: well then *practically shouting* THEY PROBABLY STOLE THE ART THEY’RE SELLING!

(One of the men looked back at us at this point, the others were intentionally ignoring us. I was sitting there and put my head in my hands, wishing for death to come quickly).

Me: *shout* Just SHUT UP! *lowers my volume back to quiet* Why do you always have to assume the worst of everyone and make shit up? Ya know what, no, I don’t want to know why. I want you to enjoy this meal alone. I’m tired of being glared at because of shit you say. Learn to control the volume of your voice, and also, take you own advice… “If you can’t say anything nice, then shut the hell up!”

(With that, I left and went home. Expectedly, my mother called me 23 times and send me 57 text messages solely containing either curse words and name-calling or the most saccharine apologies only, nothing in-between. I sent an apology to the tattoo artists through social media, and they were much nicer about it than my mother deserved).

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