I am starting to think that I am just a naturally difficult person.
There have been indications of this in the past, of course. For one thing, I got told so all the time when I was little–I thought that people were just intimidated by a bright child. And as I got older and people kept being “intimidated,” I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Sure, plenty of other people seemed to all get along with each other, and sure, I got called variations on “sarcastic” just all the time, but what does that really prove?
In retrospect, there were a couple of clear road signs that I missed. One was the way I met Mary: during our first class together, I basically called her a liar. During the second one, she called me defensive, and a friendship was born. That may not be normal.
Nor were the events during a party that I attended with her during my single days. These two guys came over and were clearly making an effort to flirt, and we were just as clearly terrifying them. I mean, it was really painful to watch. They actually looked visibly frightened, and kept whispering and pointing for ages after they finally turned tail and ran.
And in our Group Dynamics class, we somehow ended up in the “fighting” group. The other group could not get over how “negative” we all were. There were only two groups, and they were fairly randomly selected; what are the odds that one would be singing “Kumbaya” while the other was essentially toxic?
Any of these moments might have tipped me off. Instead, I simply figured that it was something about Mary.
And indeed, she was there with me on Saturday, when we cleared out half of a massive apartment party near Union Square (I hear the place used to belong to Michael Douglas’s son?). But she was being nice.
Honestly, I thought that I was being nice, too, but the fact is that ever since Nick sent me this link, I have been forced to come to terms with my inherently contentious spirit. The temptation to bicker is just too strong: I’ve closed the browser over and over again just to find myself checking just one last thing…about 30 seconds later. I have no idea how I will cope with being away from any Internet access tomorrow, although I suspect that my scheduled trip to Max Brenner’s will ease the pain just a smidge.
The worst part is that Nick likes a good bicker as much as the next person–even assuming that I am said next person. And it’s not so much fun when the debater isn’t a stranger, as Andrea is discovering as she uncovers more and more of Eric’s debates (my guess–my hope–is that he just likes playing devil’s advocate). All of the arguments that you will ever have in the course of a lifetime with a person are condensed into a couple of days, and relationships aren’t meant for that kind of pressure.
I am so lucky that I am not still trying to pick up Nick, because under the influence of this wretched site, I think that I could scare off even him.
Anyone care to argue the point?