Making Amends

Recently I committed a grievous bloggerly sin: I went "off" on a fellow blogger. I engaged my mouth before my empathy was online. I nearly had to reroute my encryptions and my inertial dampers still aren't right.

Oh yeah... It was bad.

So I recently left another comment on Gay Canuck in the Capital loaded with healthy, satisfying contrition.

You see, there are two emotions which rule my heart and mind. One is frustration and the other is jealousy. If ever those two should become entangled - look out!

That's what happened.

I am no expert on the ways of hot guys; I simply haven't had adequate access to study them in their native habitat. 99% of the time, the closest I ever get to hot guys is in porn. I do have a couple of friends who qualify as hot (in that they fit the societal mould of what a hot man is) and even them I have to stand back and try conversing through a hole in a sheet of lead.

So I'm not really qualified to make judgements. But when a guy I have no chance with (a guy who wouldn't ever talk to me if we met in the real world, I am certain) makes some kind of crazy statement like "Gee I wish I could meet someone", that gets my frustration going.

When he continues to list all the guys who hit on him that day, well, here's where the jealousy takes over.

Me, I can't count how many guys hit on me in a day. Mainly because I'm lousy at fractions, negative numbers, and whatever kind of algebra it would take for me to calculate a number that low.

What I failed to convey was that at least he has the opportunity to meet someone, which I do not. And yes, I could find my true love in one chance meeting and be raiding the registry at Pottery Barn while he's still schlepping from bar to bar with no luck, but let's face it: it's a numbers game, and I simply don't have the numbers he does.

He plays the Lotto, so he's far more likely to win before I do.

Still, that's no reason for me to be rude. I'm finding that, as I wage what feels like a neverending battle against myself, simple things like manners help me to make greater headway than therapy or even drugs. If someone says I look nice I say thank you. I don't believe them, but neither do I reject their compliment.

As nice as he was to me, his commenters were even more so. There were the usual reminders to remember empathy, and that just because someone is smoking hot doesn't mean they're happy...

Gee, I wish some of them lived in Vancouver.