Y--'re Br---ing -p
"I just think it's really selfish of you, that's all."
I was talking to one of the friends of KB, the Christian girl I went out with a couple of times, who then told me that she didn't want to see me "in that way" anymore, and subsequently refused to hear my feelings that I wouldn't be "just friends" with her afterwards. The friend, who we'll call Debbie, is now a co-worker, equally as Christian, and had started the conversation reminding me that I had one of KB's CDs.
"I can just bring it to work and you can take it to her, if you want," I said.
"Or you could call her, Chris. You should call her and talk to her, and then give it to her."
"Right."
After she got off of work she launched an attack about how wrong and sad and selfish it was of me not to be friends with her once the potential for romantic involvement was cut off.
To clarify, this girl is also not "just a Christian." She's one of the stereotypical religious people who go through life without questioning anything and basically accepting what they've always been told. I hate saying things like this, because to me it sounds like such a typical and over-used complaint, and religious people have enough trouble in their life without dealing with crap from people like me. The fact remains though, that this girl, whatever her religion, carried with her a patronizing tone that was set to show me the error of my ways and hopefully bring me to the flock.
"I just think it's really selfish of you, that's all. It also cheapens the whole relationship, don't you think?"
"Truth," Louis Menand said in 2001, "is often sacrificed for the things we think are more important at that moment." In this conversation, truth took a back seat to something I thought was more important. That something was getting the hell out of the situation with KB as painlessly as possible (for all parties), once and for all. So I planted the seed for the story I planned to tell KB from the very beginning.
"I don't think it cheapens anything," I said. "In fact it probably brings more value to the time we spent together. When I say that I can't be friends with her, I mean that my feelings for her are so great that it would be painful for me to spend time with her because I'd have to restrain myself from wanting to put my arm around her or holding her hand."
Then my boss, who was drunk, chimed in and said something of little consequence.
"But I've got lots of guy friends," she said.
"I know you think you do," I said.
Then I went off on a brief rant about how guys and girls can't be friends.
As the conversation began, I pulled RA, a friend and co-worker aside, and told him to restrain me if things started getting out of control. Debbie annoys me in more ways than one, and I'd been holding back all week.
"This could easily end in her crying or something," I said.
As I was nearing the end of my rant, RA interrupted and suggested we change the topic of conversation. I finished my point and shut up.
Debbie had a blank look on her face.
"I'm twenty-four years old, and I can't believe I've never thought about this before," she said.
I don't know. She seemed to get something out of the conversation, which I think is good. However--people, and especially people like her, often take things like this out of context and misunderstand the original point when they try to apply it to things on their own.
I was talking to one of the friends of KB, the Christian girl I went out with a couple of times, who then told me that she didn't want to see me "in that way" anymore, and subsequently refused to hear my feelings that I wouldn't be "just friends" with her afterwards. The friend, who we'll call Debbie, is now a co-worker, equally as Christian, and had started the conversation reminding me that I had one of KB's CDs.
"I can just bring it to work and you can take it to her, if you want," I said.
"Or you could call her, Chris. You should call her and talk to her, and then give it to her."
"Right."
After she got off of work she launched an attack about how wrong and sad and selfish it was of me not to be friends with her once the potential for romantic involvement was cut off.
To clarify, this girl is also not "just a Christian." She's one of the stereotypical religious people who go through life without questioning anything and basically accepting what they've always been told. I hate saying things like this, because to me it sounds like such a typical and over-used complaint, and religious people have enough trouble in their life without dealing with crap from people like me. The fact remains though, that this girl, whatever her religion, carried with her a patronizing tone that was set to show me the error of my ways and hopefully bring me to the flock.
"I just think it's really selfish of you, that's all. It also cheapens the whole relationship, don't you think?"
"Truth," Louis Menand said in 2001, "is often sacrificed for the things we think are more important at that moment." In this conversation, truth took a back seat to something I thought was more important. That something was getting the hell out of the situation with KB as painlessly as possible (for all parties), once and for all. So I planted the seed for the story I planned to tell KB from the very beginning.
"I don't think it cheapens anything," I said. "In fact it probably brings more value to the time we spent together. When I say that I can't be friends with her, I mean that my feelings for her are so great that it would be painful for me to spend time with her because I'd have to restrain myself from wanting to put my arm around her or holding her hand."
Then my boss, who was drunk, chimed in and said something of little consequence.
"But I've got lots of guy friends," she said.
"I know you think you do," I said.
Then I went off on a brief rant about how guys and girls can't be friends.
As the conversation began, I pulled RA, a friend and co-worker aside, and told him to restrain me if things started getting out of control. Debbie annoys me in more ways than one, and I'd been holding back all week.
"This could easily end in her crying or something," I said.
As I was nearing the end of my rant, RA interrupted and suggested we change the topic of conversation. I finished my point and shut up.
Debbie had a blank look on her face.
"I'm twenty-four years old, and I can't believe I've never thought about this before," she said.
I don't know. She seemed to get something out of the conversation, which I think is good. However--people, and especially people like her, often take things like this out of context and misunderstand the original point when they try to apply it to things on their own.
posted by Chris Cusack at 4:09 PM
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