When people come over to do work at our home, I generally don& #39;t talk much because of my Polish.

Yesterday, we had a man over to clean our couch w/ a steam cleaner.

He entered our home and I said, "Dzień dobry [Good day]." Then I worked with my laptop at the dining room table.

My wife and him were chatting away in Polish. And when this happens, I usually zone out anyway.

At one point, I left the room.

The cleaner asked my wife if I was a neighbor. My wife said no, he& #39;s my husband - why?

He said, "Oh, usually the man is talking to me."

"They like to talk about my steam cleaner," he said.

When I came back, he was in our kitchen filling a bucket of water. On the counter were two empty chocolate beer bottles from the previous night.

The man said, "What kind of a man drinks that kind of beer?"

My wife told him that this was her beer, not mine.

"Oh," he said.

My wife is translating all this as it& #39;s happening.

This man who keeps making potshots at me because I& #39;m not living up to his bullshit standard of masculinity, seems disappointed that I& #39;m not reacting to him.

He lectured my son about riding his bike on the street before he left with a lot of finger waving.

I was happy when he was gone.

But I felt sorry for him because he clearly couldn& #39;t turn his masculinity bullshit off. It was programmed in too deep.

It must be so exhausting.