When the hell did “fuck” become the only word anyone knows?

Don’t get me wrong.  I use it myself – very sparingly.  But more and more it seems as though “fuck” in some form or another is the go-to word for the millennium.  It’s an exclamation.  It’s a noun.  It’s an adjective.  It’s an adverb. It’s even overtaken all the other curses.  No more does anyone say “What the hell?” or “I don’t give a damn.”  (Remember Rhett Butler?)  On the one hand, that makes it wonderfully versatile.  On the other, that makes it a crutch – and an incendiary one at that.  

For once I’m not arguing for linguistic variety or creativity – although I could.  No, I’m just sending out a general plea to give me a break.

I’m not shocked when I hear fuck.  More than anything else, it ticks me off.  And the more I hear it, the more aggravated I get.  It’s all about volume.  I can hear it about five times in a day before it starts getting annoying.  At ten or fifteen, my blood pressure starts to rise.  From twenty on, I’m just mad.  It’s the verbal equivalent of being poked with a finger, then a stick, then being beaten with a bat.

A person can become immune to a lot of toxic things – like malaria or rattlesnake venom – through repeated exposure.  I haven’t found the same to be true about this word.  Hearing it over and over hasn’t made me immune – it’s made me much, much, much more sensitive.

I learned this when I moved into my current apartment – a share.  During the initial meeting I could tell that fuck was my future roommate’s absolute, hands down favorite word of all time.  Not a sentence left his lips without it.  But otherwise, he was a nice guy and I liked the place, so I told myself the carpet F-bombing wouldn’t be a problem.  I was a big boy.  I should be able to handle it.

Maybe I should, but I couldn’t.

Fast forward to one day a year later.  After twelve months of “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking, fuck fucker fuck, fuck, fuck” I was a little raw.  One day I had enough and said, “OK, I need not to hear that word again for 24 hours.”

Seemed reasonable to me.

The weird thing was he was stunned.  He had no idea that he’d managed to cram the word into our conversation at least twenty times in ten minutes. I still don’t know how that’s possible, but I’m sure there’s some sort of psycho-physiological reason for it.  The main thing is that since then life’s been easier in the apartment.  My roommate has cut way back on the f-words and my blood pressure is back to normal.

I know fuck is evolving in meaning and use.  If you’re under 30, it can be nothing more than a verbal comma, a much tougher version of “like.”  It could also be a way you use to prove you’re tough.  Or you may really have only a twelve-word vocabulary.  To me, though, it’s the ultimate anger word – especially when it’s directed at someone.  It’s the last word you use before you put your fist through a wall, so I expect you to work up to it.

And that’s the way I respond to it.

For instance, a while back a colleague (whom I already didn’t like much) stormed up to me and opened with “What the fuck . . . ?”  I don’t remember what his complaint was.  Frankly, by opening with the f-word, he ensured I’d never care, either.  I do remember feeling my face get hot and the next thing I knew I was telling him that he was never allowed say that particular word to me again under any circumstances for the rest of his miserable life.  (Seriously, for the rest of his life.  I told you it ticks me off.)

I’m not a yeller by nature, but I must have been a little loud, because applause burst out all over the office when I was done.  (No one else liked him, either.)

My point?  There’s little hope that the fuck will go out of style anytime soon.  I just wanted vent a little, to urge some moderation and to put in a plug for old-school curses like “damn” and “hell” and “son of a bitch.”

Try them once in a while, please.  I’m begging you!