Moment Of Clarity

Okay:

Y'know. Last week was one hell of a week.

And I must admit, I behaved badly.

Nothing unusual for me. I do a lot of things I shouldn't do. More than that, I say a lot of things I shouldn't say. And when words don't work for me, I can do some pretty major damage with my silence.

It's a rarity that I'm ever silent, but when I am, it always seems to be at the wrong time.

So, I'm basically fucked.

Whatever I say is bound to be the wrong thing to say, and whatever I don't say is certain to be interpreted as insolence.

I'm not a victim though. I'm an asshole. I embrace it.

There is power in my assholery. I get to do and say a lot of things that normal people wouldn't dream of. Last week at happy hour I led a fifteen minutes group discussion about my penis.

"My penis is Martin Luther King," I said. "I had a dream...and it was my dick."

"My penis is George W. Bush, Jr.," I continued. "It won't pull out and it has a coalition of the willing...namely, my balls."

I can say things like this in public because I am an asshole and people know it. Because I embrace it, they accept it. Sometimes, however, I go too far.

A few weeks ago I said some unflattering things about a friend of mine behind her back. When it got back to her, she was understandably outraged and told me so.

But I didn't apologize.

I was silent.

I don't know. Part pride, part ego. Even though I knew I was one hundred percent wrong, I didn't do my due diligence in rectifying the situation with a prompt, sincere apology and explanation. It's not even like I was confused about whether I was wrong or not. I knew I was wrong, didn't deny it. I just didn't make it a priority to right things.

I let it fester for a week. We finally had it out on Friday when she approached me after work. I gave her an apology, which she accepted, but not without giving me a well-deserved earful about character and integrity.

Afterwards, I should have felt better but I didn't. I thought about it the whole weekend. Why did I do something so adolescent to begin with and why was I so reluctant to apologize?

Then it came to me while I was shitting. In my last relationship I did a lot of apologizing. At least once a week. Sometimes twice a week. I would get the silent treatment for days at a time. Two or three times a month I had to participate in screaming matches against my will.

Then after a few years, I turned her off. I stopped caring. It was the only way I could protect myself.

See, all that constant groveling and apologizing put me in a weak position. And being in a weak position sucks. I don't know how conscious it was, but I think I kind of made a pact with myself to no longer give into the emotional whims of women. Right or wrong, to always stand my ground.

So, even though my friend had a legitimate grievance, I couldn't approach her and apologize for fear that she would take the opportunity to belittle me and question my manhood. Better to let her approach me.

I was experiencing what I like to call an "Ex-Back". That is, a person or situation reminded me of my ex-girlfriend, so I freaked.

Bottom line: better to be an asshole than a sucker.

So, after I got off the toilet I felt a lot better. For a couple of reasons. I do intend to fix things with my friend, or at least explain my behavior. She is not my ex-girlfriend and does not deserve the full-brunt of my assholery.

See? Therapy is dumb. All you need is some peace and quiet and a nice, long shit.

I call it "Doo Doo Therapy".


Thanks for reading.

GOBAMA!

JOIN THE BLACK BROADWAY ONLINE COMMUNITY
http://www.blackbroadway.ning.com

Innocent Question: Do you think that this is why God made us shit? So that at least three times a week we'd be forced to think about things? By that rationale, the more you shit, the more enlightened you are.