Misery loves company, but the company doesn’t even like Misery (or even want to hang out with it!)

I was thinking about the phrase “Misery loves company” and I don’t believe it.  Here’s what happened:  (Oh, boy!  Here we go again!)  While sitting down to some good eats at Moe’s Southwestern Grill, a franchise of wonderful loaded nachos and burritos the size of small cities, I opened the door for a woman who had nothing in her hands.  I was just being nice and doing the things in life that my dad had always taught me.  She didn’t say thank you, or smile, or even acknowledge that I was standing there holding the door.  She just waltzed her uppity, self-centered ass right through the door and kept on walking.  Well, I didn’t want to make a scene, and I didn’t.  However, when she sat down a few tables over from us (we sat outside tonight because the weather was nice and the kids were cold inside the restaurant) I noticed that she sat alone.

Enter part two of the evening’s activities…children playing on the same sidewalk that the tables are set out upon.  Children whose parents are right there with them, watching attentively and shushing the children when they got too loud.  However, the two boys, appearing to be be around four and five or six respectively, did what boys their age did.  MADE NOISE.  LOTS OF IT.  And, even though they were right behind us, it didn’t bother me.  Hey, I have a fairly high tolerance for kids.  The lady (we’ll call her Madam Miserable) was sitting about twenty feet further away from the boys’ playing and racket, but you would have thought she was sitting in my seat the way she kept looking at them and making faces of obvious disdain and displeasure at these two “ruffians”.

About five or ten minutes later, the family with the boys leaves and walks directly behind Madam M and one of the boys bumps the back of her chair with his soda cup, which then hits the cement sidewalk with a very audible thump/splat combo, but the lid stays on and nothing is even slightly moistened in the aftermath.  Madam M turned slowly in her seat, looked down at the boy, up at the father, down at the boy, and said NOTHING as the boy and his father put the cup in the trash.  Once that was completed and as they passed by her chair again to continue on their way, SHE turned and said something I couldn’t hear from my vantage point.  However, if the looks on her face and the father’s face was any indication, she gave her unwanted opinion of how the boys should behave in public or something to that effect.  The father was giving her a look like a) she was crazy, b) she better shut the hell up before she gets slapped, c) incredulous that someone could be so bitchy…period, or d) all of the above.  The correct answer, my friend, is D as in Dumbass, Dead Heart, Droll Troll, Dreary, Desperate, Downright Miserable, and…well, you get the idea.

After a brief one-way, perhaps two-way but I couldn’t tell, conversation, the father turns with his boys and leaves.  She turns back to her table and then, lo and behold!, a man comes out of the ice cream shop and joins her at her table.  I look at the guy to see if he has sat down at that table by mistake or if he was blind and didn’t realize someone else was at the table, or if he was just as miserable looking as the snipe sitting next to him.  Nothing but signs of a happy man enjoying his ice cream.  Oh, and he brought some for his lady friend.  So, I got to thinking about the phrase in the title of this piece…

Misery doesn’t love company…she enjoys spreading a foul mood around, perhaps.  She may find pleasure in her aloofness that she is superior to all those around her, and that we are all dummies and miscreants unfit to share the world with her kind.  Misery loves to be miserable…alone.  Besides, company doesn’t like to be around misery because it’s frustrating, angering, and downright boring.  There’s no party popping all night long with Misery.  The DJ doesn’t play industrial when Misery is around.  Instead, he plays the funeral dirge and tries not to cry on his turntables.

I will say this…the man seemed to be oblivious to his lady friend’s foul disposition and he was eating the ice cream like it was his only friend.  I wanted to tell him that the only thing sweet about his lady friend was the ice cream she was shoveling in her mouth.  But, being a gentleman, and because my wife and kids were present, I kept my opinions and observations to myself.  *sigh*  I mean, I’m glad I didn’t say anything and cause a scene, but you have to admit, wouldn’t you want to just walk up to the guy and say, “What the hell, man?  Are you really happy?”

Another friendly reminder from your neighborhood spy-terse (fellow) man, be nice or be knocked over. And out!

~ by kyodan75 on April 21, 2010.

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