“I do think I am more easily disturbed then others,” I told the soldier.

(swearing below the break)

“I’d agree with that,” he said.  “You do get disturbed by things that would not disturb me at all, of course nothing disturbs me. I don’t give a shit.  This world has become all politically correct. Can’t say this or this person will get their feelings hurt. Can’t say that or that person’s feelings will go all haywire.  We’re supposed to walk on eggshells and I’m not going to do it. I am going to say whatever I want and if you don’t like it, well FUCK YOU. Get out of the way or be trampled.”

I laughed.

“Yeah, P. I don’t care what the rest of the world does and I don’t care how the rest of the world feels except for you. I do try to mind myself around you… I know you’re sensitive and I love you and I don’t want to hurt you or cause you to feel bad if I can help it but the rest of these motherfuckers can kiss my ass. I am NOT walking on eggshells just because some dumb bastard tells me I should.  Why would I listen to a dumb bastard and let him tell me what to do?”

“No reason.”

“Yeah, P, it did not used to be this way. When we were kids you could say what you wanted. If you called me a bastard, so what! You’re a bastard!  I don’t get called a bastard and have to wind up sniveling on the floor in need of therapy. If they have managed to talk these other men into being that way and feeling that way, that’s their problem not mine and I am not going to make it mine. Give me a problem, I’ll kill ya!  There! No more problem… for me!” he said with a snort.

I laughed.

“Yeah, P. I do care how you feel. I care very deeply about how you feel. I never want to hurt your feelings and I hate it when I do but anyone else either prepare to have theirs trampled or stay out of my path.”