I used to be tolerant. Of some things. Moreso and of more things than today. I am no longer tolerant of many things and it doesn't bother me in the least to think or say so, that I am not a tolerant person. Closer to me than the culture at large, I have seen how tolerance enables errant, erroneous, damaging and escalating behavior.
Last weekend, at a house wedding reception, the high heel of my boot got stuck in between two boards on the deck. A man that I don't know very well made a supposedly humorous remark along the lines of "you'd think that's the first time you got stuck in a crack", something like that. It was meant as a lesbian joke, and he smirked. There was a time I'd have laughed and left it at that. This time I smirked back, and then said, straight-faced, "Really? Bad dog, no biscuit. Cone of shame for you."
Don't want no sht, don't start no sht. I expected maybe some blowback from the other people around -- "ah c'mon, he's only kidding" -- but there was none.
Here's where I come back around to tolerating certain behavior. This man lives with the mother of his three children (never married), who "went lesbian", in order to be with "his babies". So, he lives in the stinking miasma of her deviance, it's gotten on him, and he doesn't even smell it anymore; now he smells up wherever he goes and whomever he's with and thinks it should be okay.