Silence would be golden if there were ever any fucking silence

"Hi, I'm Robin."
I said my name.
"Z---, who?"
That alone rubbed me the wrong way. But I told her anyway.
"You don't look like him."
I was getting pissed off. But it was my uncle's birthday party, and I didn't know how this chick came to be invited so I wasn't quite ready to spoil everyone's evening with my boiling rage.
"Actually, yes, I do."
"I've met you before. You were very quiet. You need to smile more. Liven up."
I hope no one was standing on either side of me because steam shot from my ears.

Later, she came up to me after I had whiskey in me.
"You just don't look like you're having a good time."
"Sorry."
"You don't like me, do you?"
"Not really, no."
"God, you don't have to be like that. I want us to be friends."
I walked off.

Still later, she came up again. What the fuck? I thought I'd moved beyond hints to the explicit. But she felt the need to speak.
"What's your problem?"
"Excuse me?"
"What's your problem? Why don't you like me?"
Good fucking god.
"Listen, lady, I've had enough of this shit."
As I walked off, she tried her version of offending me.
"You're not very nice."
"I know."
"You're being a jerk."
I kept walking.
"You're an asshole."
I turned partially.
"Yeah, I get it."

One more time later... why won't the freakshow go home?
"You really hurt my feelings earlier."
"Yep. That sounds like me."

That pretty much ended it. But it reinforced my personal philosophy:
I. Fucking. Hate. People.