In my younger days, I was a bit of a hot-head. I’m the first one to admit that I used to get angry about a lot of really dumb stuff – enraged, even. About pointless, meaningless crap. Several years ago I was given the nickname “The Rage” by one of my co-workers. I never got into fights, really – I just had a bad attitude and I hated everything.

That’s all in the past, now, thank goodness. I am embarrassed when I look back at how easy it was to work myself into a frenzy over the smallest things. My wife Valerie can tell you. Somehow we’ve managed to stay married for 34 years. The two of us have been through some difficult times together, and I’m ashamed to say she was often the source of my rage, whether it was warranted or not.

It’s been a tempestuous relationship to say the least, but without the added tension of parenthood. We both decided early on that we had no desire to have kids. The fact that we never had to bear the responsibility of raising children probably contributed to us not really growing up – at least not in my case until I was well into my 40s…

We were married way too young: I was 20 and Valerie had just turned 18. I don’t recommend that to anyone. The more I think about it the more I realize that we were escaping from our families more than anything else. But that’s neither here nor there.

This incident happened several years ago when Val and I weren’t getting along so well and our relationship was filled with tension. I felt like I was always walking on egg shells around her. One day Valerie came home from grocery shopping weeping uncontrollably, very upset. Her eyes were red with anger and frustration. At first she didn’t want to tell me what had happened, but finally she calmed down and said that she had been shopping at Smith’s in the vegetable section, looking for cucumbers. She found one that she liked and pulled it from the stack of neatly layered cucumbers when suddenly she heard the voice of one of the grocery clerks, a middle aged Hispanic man, mumbling something to her.

“Fucking skank…”

What? She couldn’t believe her hears! Val spun around. Did he really say that to her?

SKANK? Why skank?

She quickly surmised that she must have inadvertently upset the aesthetics of the portly produce clerk’s cucumber display, and he clearly did not appreciate it! Especially not from a blond-haired ‘gringa.’

Valerie is not the kind of woman to make a big fuss about much of anything, and she’s not big on confrontations, but when she challenged him he denied saying anything – insulting and humiliating her even more.

The man refused to offer an apology, so Val went and found his supervisor (a tiny Hispanic woman) and explained it all to her but still the smarmy produce clerk, dressed in his blue Smith’s overalls and white apron, continued to deny making any such comments to my wife.

“There’s nothing more I can do, ma’am. You’re welcome to file a complaint with corporate headquarters,” the supervisor told her, and she turned around and left it at that.

That’s when the tears finally began to well up in Val’s eyes and the frustration set in. She gathered her bags and stormed out of the store, weeping all the way home. When she told me what happened, I was shocked. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I hadn’t seen Val that upset in a long time and I knew this stranger must’ve really hurt her feelings. As she recounted the details of her humiliation, my eyes began to glaze over and I became nauseous. My right eyebrow began to twitch and I started hyperventilating. Cold sweat was being squeezed from every pore in my body. I stood rigid, clenching and unclenching my fists. I was vibrating with rage.

“I‘M NOT A SKANK!” Val blubbered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Is the guy still there?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“I guess so…probably. Don‘t do anything crazy!!”

I had already worked myself into a frenzy by the time I left the house, screeching the tires in a cloud of dust as I drove off. Not only was I finally going to get to spew some vitriol onto some deserving jackass – I was going to defend the honor of my beloved, estranged wife. This was a mission to recapture the spark of passion we’d lost in our marriage.

I was barely able to drive to Smith’s because I was shaking so violently; adrenaline was surging through my veins. I got out of the car and I had a sick feeling in my gut as the anger welled up inside. My mouth was dry as a bone. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I had no idea what I was actually going to do or say to this guy if I did find him, but I vowed that I was not going to back down. Nobody’s gonna call my wife a fucking skank! At least not without a damn good reason. I’d been waiting for an excuse to go off on somebody for a long time, and here was my golden opportunity.

He was easy enough to spot based on my wife’s description, and with only a slight hesitation I approached the guy who had insulted her. He was still stacking produce.

“Hey, are you the guy who called my wife a fucking skank?” I blurted. It was hard to form words and by now I was so enraged I was stuttering and stammering like a meth addict. My eyeballs were spinning like a Looney Tunes cartoon. Steam was shooting out of my ears for all I knew. I must have scared the hell out of him.

“Uh, no, no, man, you can talk to my supervisor…I didn’t say nothing.”

His lying pissed me off even more!

We were in a crowded grocery store, so I got up in his face, the veins in my neck bulging.

“I don’t need to talk to your supervisor,” I growled, poking him in the chest with my finger. “My wife told me you called her a skank and I believe her, so I’M CALLING YOU A FUCKING LIAR AND A BIG FAT SPIC!!”

And I stormed out of there without looking back.

I was given a hero’s welcome when I returned home and told Val what happened. I had successfully defended my wife’s honor by making a complete ass of myself in public. I’m not proud of what I did, and I only said what I said for shock value. I’ve never called anyone that name before or since. I just couldn’t think of anything else to say at the time that would offend that jerk enough to satisfy my need for vengeance. I’m ashamed I had to resort to such a crude insult but blind, irrational anger makes people do the dumbest things.

It saved my marriage, anyway.