Responsible polyamory is NOT: Agreeing to be "open" and then not seeing or speaking to your partner for weeks, only to show up at her birthday party while she's trying to run things and casually mention, "hey love you lots I'm feeling frisky again I'm available for that now" and in the same breath, "oh by the way I've been seeing some other people"—WITH DETAILS about the people?? Like, she doesn't wanna find that out in that moment. That's a sit-down conversation. Or maybe you've already agreed to be poly and not share when you're seeing other people.

But YOU show up, you're already drunk and high and she's stressed out trying to host a party. She hasn't heard from you in ages and you just drop in and catch her the one moment she's alone and she feels cornered and—UGH makes me so mad that hot guys get away with that shit. She didn't deserve that. You don't even know how much you hurt her. She should have dumped your ass ages ago. She can do SO much better.

I hope the other people you're "casually" seeing can see that how you behave is NOT OK, and they don't make excuses for you. I hope you can get your shit together and stop using alcohol and weed to avoid your problems! There are a lot of people who care about you in this city! But the more you act like that, the fewer they will be.
—Friend Of Your Ex (I Was There)

Here in Nova Scotia our populace is still small enough that we extend courtesy to those around us, especially on the sidewalks. I understand if you come from a place where this is not the case, but if you are a guest here, please leave your disregard for others at the door.
—Neighbourhood Watcher

I would like to dedicate this bitch to arrogant, entitled, think-your-shit-don’t-stink hospitality owners. Owning a restaurant doesn’t make you special or above the rest of us humans, so fuck you. Owning a restaurant doesn’t give you the right to yell at staff, so fuck you. Owning a restaurant doesn’t give you the right to force your staff to participate in penny-pinching schemes. Shame on you for not supporting staff members when they come to you regarding sexual assault matters within the workplace. And lastly, fuck you for creating a workplace environment that makes me physically sick.
—One Bad-ass Employee

I realize that I had parked in a no-parking zone. I drove around three times to try to find a legit parking space, but was running out of time. You see, two days ago I miscarried. As I was driving down Vernon to get to work, I finally got a call that my emergency ultrasound was scheduled (which I had been waiting for for days), but I had to get to the hospital in 30 minutes and drink two-to-three litres of water beforehand. I finally decided to park in a no-parking, put my four-ways on and run into the store to get water. I saw you, was nowhere near you when I opened my door, yet you still yelled at me with all the hate and anger you could muster. It left me shook.

Maybe I am a “FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT.” But I don’t think I’ve ever met one person who has followed the rules of the road 100 percent all of the time, including you I’m sure. A little compassion goes a long way—and you made an already stressful situation almost unbearable. And I want you to know that.

To the person who wrote “You are awesome!” and “Have a wonderful day!” in chalk on University Avenue: Thank you. I truly needed to read that today!
—No Parking, No Options

Why, oh why, does anyone in their right mind spend good money on a concert ticket only to go and talk (yell) to their dumb, Instagram-scrolling friends? You, yes you, are ruining it for everyone else who has to stand within earshot of your inconsiderate ass. Do yourself a favour and don't waste your money — and please, do everyone else a favour and go do something else. Turn up your basic bitch Spotify algo and talk over Shawn Mendes with your halfwit squad in the comfort of your own fucking home, dumbass.—Fed up with festival talkers

Seriously? You believe the best place to pick at your fly bites and scabs is at the bus stop and on the bus? Not only were you picking—not scratching, but full on picking—your fly bites and scabs, but then you were wiping the blood onto your legs, arms and the bus seat. Come the hell on! How were you raised? No one wants to see that shit. It's disgusting. Then to top it all off you start sneezing with your yap wide open spreading your snot and spit all over the place for all to enjoy. Thanks so much for that. The topper to all of this was the huge wad of spit you graciously left on the side of the street before getting on the bus. Grow up and get some manners. I feel bad for whomever had to sit next to you on the bus.
—Wishing for some hand sanitizer

This is the second time I saw your cat left outside, sitting on your doorstep in the pouring rain waiting to get inside your house.
So, I decide to go across the street and ring your doorbell to tell you your cat wants to come inside. Then you tell me that it is ok that your cat stays out in the rain. Really? Maybe you should stay out in the rain, idiot, and see if you like it and let your cat come inside your house. You do not deserve to have a cat or any pet.
If you didn't want a cat then you shouldn't have adopt it!—A happy cat owner

When someone is pointedly ignoring you while slouching home at the end of a hot day, take the hint and move on to the next rube. Whistling at me and shouting "Hey!" like I'm a fucking stray dog isn't going to convince me to buy your bullshit in the best of moods.
—No I'm not interested

Dear woman waiting for the number 3 bus at the Dartmouth Terminal:
What sort of rotting soul do you have to have to cut to the front of the line, blocking a visually impaired woman from entering the bus?
Only the person grabbing her arm prevented that woman from stepping off the curb in front of the bus.
Your face was smiling as you slid into your hard-won seat, your tatted hand holding your protein shake bottle.
You are either oblivious or a shameless narcissist.
I vote for number two.
—The bitch on the bus goes 'round and 'round

I saw you steal the balloon off that old lady's front porch. Your buddy kept yelling "Wrong house! Wrong house!" but was perfectly fine after you snagged that precious, partially deflated pink prize. At least the third member of your drunk little gang had the decency to look ashamed when I met his eyes. You and the other shitbag, though, have a special spot in hell waiting. I don't care how drunk you were, you and your buddy are pieces of shit.
Oh, and if that banging I heard as I walked away turns out to have been you, and I see any damage done to the park or bus stop on my walk to work, guess what? I recognized you, and I hope seeing the cops coming to take you in for vandalism scares that shittiness out of you.
—Seriously, stealing a ballon from an old lady's house? How fucked are you?