I was on anti-anxiety meds but stopped because I felt better and my doctor agreed I could take a break. I start feeling like I should go back on them, so I tell my boyfriend about my thoughts while we are watching TV one evening.

Me: “I’ve been thinking about going back on [medication].”

My boyfriend doesn’t look away from the TV.

Boyfriend: “Why?”

Me: “I’ve just been feeling… low-level anxious all the time.”

Boyfriend: “Well, why?”

Me: “I don’t know, I just—”

My boyfriend glances at me before going back to the TV

Boyfriend: “What are you doing that’s making you anxious?”

Me: “I don’t know, it’s—”

Boyfriend: “So, why go back on?”

Me: “Because I just feel anxious all the time. I always think you’re mad at me or I’ve forgotten something. I always wonder if customers at work are mad at me. I’m not getting decent sleep.”

Boyfriend: “Last time, you laid in bed for a whole week until things got balanced out, you barely ate or showered, and your sex drive plummeted. What about all that?”

Me: “I know, but—”

Boyfriend: “Can you do something else? Go to the gym? Drink more water?”

Me: *Giving up* “Whatever.” 

Silence.

Boyfriend: “What?”

Me: “Nothing.”

Boyfriend: “Oh, now you’re mad at me? Why?”

Me: *Annoyed and hurt* “You’re not listening.”

Boyfriend: “I am listening! You’re not saying anything! How am I supposed to help if you’re not telling me anything?”

Me: “I’m not asking for your help! I’m trying to tell you how I feel and you just keep interrupting me.”

Boyfriend: “You’re not saying anything!”

Me: “I can’t do this. Forget I said anything.”

Boyfriend: “I’m just saying that I think there are alternate options before going back on your meds.”

Me: “Okay, thanks.”

A few weeks later, I’ve tried all the non-medication options out there and, while things have improved a little, it’s not enough and I feel like I could be better with medication. I call to make an appointment with my doctor. My boyfriend comes in while I am finalizing.

Me: *On the phone* “Yes, thank you. I’ll see [Doctor], then.” *Hangs up*

Boyfriend: “What was that?”

Me: “Oh, I made an appointment with [Doctor].”

Boyfriend: “Why?”

Me: “I’m still not feeling right.”

Boyfriend: “Did you try—”

Me: “Yes.”

Boyfriend: “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

Me: “Exercise, water, outdoor activities, vitamins, yoga, meditation, a schedule. Yes, I tried it all.”

Boyfriend: “Are you going back on [medication]?”

Me: “I don’t know; we haven’t discussed it.”

Boyfriend: “Well, I don’t think you should. Maybe you should just figure it out.”

Me: *Astonished* “You are… just…”

Boyfriend: “What?”

Me: “Insensitive.”

Boyfriend: “I’m just saying, you know what happened last time. The side effects—”

Me: “Are not as bad as feeling like this all the f****** time!”

Boyfriend: “You’re mad at me again?”

Me: “I’m mad because I tried to come to you and all you did was shoot me down! You don’t listen!”

Boyfriend: “So, you want to go back on your drugs?”

Me: “No, I don’t want to, but right now I think I need to.”

Boyfriend: “That’s ridiculous.”

He throws his arms up.

Boyfriend: “You know what? You do whatever you want, just like you always do!”

He walked out. I went to my appointment and asked if there was another medication or something I could do to get myself straightened out. The doctor recommended a different medication with fewer side effects. I still had a transition period of about a week but it wasn’t nearly as bad as before.

My boyfriend did come back, but I told him if he wanted to stick around, he was going to have to stop interrupting me and start listening. We even started going to therapy and the therapist told him the same thing: to listen instead of trying to fix everything right away. He said he would try, but it turned out to be too difficult; he left again a month later and hasn’t been back.

I, however, am doing great!

I’m a 21-year-old college senior working on a law program in addition to my bachelor’s degree. Unfortunately, I’ve had asthma that fluctuates in severity since I was a kid. As fear and panic begins to spread throughout the country, my doctor personally calls me to notify me that she would like me to come pick up some doctor’s notes that she’s signed for me in order to pass to my professors and my work. She would rather have me inside and self-isolating as soon as possible. 

Once I get these notes, I drop them off to the appropriate parties and am reassured that it won’t be a problem at all. I drop the signed doctor’s notes on a Monday, and my school week typically starts on a Tuesday. So, I am covered, sweet. 

That Friday morning, I wake up to an email from one of my professors, at least a page long, chastising me for being so irresponsible and not showing up to class. This professor is close with my advisor, but I’ve never had him nor interacted with him otherwise, so this kind of email is rather inappropriate and shocking. 

I send him an email, reminding him of my doctor’s note and also providing him with my doctor’s number in case he needs to call her office. 

Within minutes, he writes back, stating that asthma is no excuse for missing class and no quality professor would be accepting of that reason. 

When I email him back, I CC the Dean of Humanities and once again attach my doctor’s note. Within the body of the message, I explain that while I understand where he is coming from, with the spreading healthcare crisis it is more detrimental for me to be outside than it is for me to be home. I also point out that all of my other professors, including my law professors with whom I interact wholly online and got precautionary notes, had no issues whatsoever. I want to point out the fact that he is literally the only professor I have who doesn’t have the title of Doctor, but I refrain; I’m not trying to be rude here. 

I don’t hear back from him, but the next week my campus closes until the end of the semester and everything is moved online. Every professor follows the school’s mandated “week off” while everything changes… except him. 

It only takes three days into the week before all the coursework is removed from view from the class’s homepage and the Dean emails our class to personally apologize for the professor’s behavior. I guess my classmates have been complaining, too. 

The Dean emails me, too, apologizing for the professor’s behavior and requesting a copy of my note to keep on file. She then goes on to tell me that if I need anything to not hesitate to reach out. 

Moral of the story: don’t be an a**hole during a national emergency, man. Not all college students intentionally skip out on school all the time. And it’s better to be an understanding, cool professor than one everyone hates.

Supermarkets and other businesses that have stayed open are trying to get customers to respect social distancing by marking adequate spaces for queues on their floors near the checkouts.

I was at the head of the queue for the self-checkouts, having waited carefully behind all lines and giving plenty of room to the person at the first machine. A young man came up and stood right behind me, completely oblivious to the signs, tape, and rope barriers informing customers of where to stand. 

As luck would have it, I felt a tickle in my throat and a surge of overwhelming retail worker passive-aggression right at that moment. I threw my arm over my face and coughed as loudly and theatrically as my 5’2″ self could manage — which was pretty loud, if I say so myself. 

“Oh, ex-CUSE me!” I then proclaimed, juggling my groceries as I reached for my hand sanitiser. 

He finally backed up behind the next line, and I proceeded to the next free machine. I know it’s incredibly petty, but please, folks, take a step back.

(In some states, our claims are required to have a list of all the passengers in a vehicle that’s involved in an accident. The person I am speaking with here is from one of those states and he’s been giving me a hard time for most of the interview already.)

Me: “Okay, next question: were you the only person in your vehicle at the time?”

Caller: “Naw, it was a full car; I had my wife, kid, and gran’kids with me.”

Me: “And what are your passengers’ names, please?”

Caller: “Do I have to tell ya? I mean, why would you even need that?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but in your state, it’s required for us to have a list of the names of everyone in your vehicle.”

Caller: “Well, we had some fish in the car; you wanna know about them, too?!”

Me: “You know, I guess that depends, sir. Do your fish have names?”

(He took a few seconds to recover from that but was much more cooperative for the rest of our conversation.)

My 23-year-old brother-in-law is a six in looks and a two in personality. He is the youngest out of four siblings, so on top of having the spoiled baby syndrome, he is egotistical, selfish, and condescending. He is not above making fun of things like speech impediments to make himself feel superior or talking down to people, despite being the kind of guy who could easily be hit by a bus by not looking both ways.

He also is an electrical engineer which, for non-engineers, means he has a God-complex and is always right. And for whatever reason, this catch of a man thinks he deserves the perfect woman by his standards: a ten physically and a fifteen intellectually and a personality that matches him, despite never taking the time to get to know any of these girls. It is sufficient to say that he is squarely single and can’t figure out why from these encounters:

Date #1: He decides not to see a girl after having sex on the first date, because it was “just okay.” Naturally, he ghosts her.

Date #2: He decides not to see a girl again because she is an ER nurse and he is offended that she is late to their first date.

Date #3: Potential girlfriend refuses to get physical and just wants to hold hands because this is her first date ever.

Date #4: The girl is religious so that makes her automatically insane.

Date #5: She hasn’t seen one obscure anime, so she must have lied to him about liking anime.

The list of his jerky exploits goes on and on and on as he picks out a new insecure girl only to reject them in a horrible, self-righteous manner. I think he is going to be single for a while. If only he would stop going on dates and screwing with these poor girls.