The Fake Victim
I hate it when people who’ve played me would have it be the case that they’re somehow the victim once I’ve called them on it. It’s deeply insulting, because it’s as though they don’t think I’m keen enough to figure out what’s happening.
About two months ago, I cold snapped on a woman because I was in a bad mood and she asked me what I considered to be a dumb question. I came out of a bag on her in front of a room full of people. It was wrong of me to embarrass her as I did. She didn’t deserve that and being in a bad mood is never an acceptable excuse to snap on someone who is undeserving. Without prompting, I approached her and apologised. She didn’t accept my apology initially but after some time she came around. Whether or not she did is something over which I had no control. And if she’d never accepted my apology I’d have understood, because as I have had to demonstrate recently, I’m extremely unforgiving of those who embarrass me.
I could have made an issue of the way she reacted to me when I apologised and assumed the role of victim, but I didn’t. I wronged her–period. So it wasn’t about me. It was about her and doing what I could to make it right.
Fast forward to today. I responded to a text message from a woman I wrote about in a previous blog (http://www.diamondsuite.net/index.php/?p=28). A few days ago, she stated that I’d refused to return her phone calls and asked if I wanted to go out for a drink. But, she warned, that she wouldn’t try to get in touch with me again if she didn’t hear from me.
Colour me sad. But not really.
I wrote her back to say that I hadn’t received her message when she sent it, but that no, I didn’t return her calls and, no, I didn’t want to go out for drinks with her because she’s shady and has no credibility. Her response? I’m shady and without credibility because I, too, have dogged people out only to smile in their face the next time we met.
And you know what? She’s right. I have definitely clowned people, saw them, laughed, hugged and/or shook up and acted like we were cool. And I’m sure I’ll do so again. That’s shady as hell and it makes me a phony. But peep it: we weren’t talking about me, and my shadiness and lack of credibility didn’t result in her feelings being hurt.
Speaking of which, now her feelings are hurt, because I didn’t bother to verify what had happened with her. Well I’ll be. She’s the one who told me what happened, so if there was something to verify, wouldn’t she have verified it? Past that, now it isn’t even about me or what I felt anymore, huh? It’s about her, how she feels about me and her feelings being hurt? How did that happen? How did she become the hapless victim?
It happened because she, like many people, has an accountability deficit. As soon as you point out to these people what they’ve done or said wrong, you’re hearing what you’ve done or said wrong. So in addition to never addressing where s/he here missed or there exceeded the mark, you’re put on the defensive.
What’s puzzling about that is your shortcoming(s) didn’t come up until you addressed their’s. That’s bullshit straight up and down and it affirms my decision not to fuck with them after I’ve made them a part of my personal black history.
Such is the case with this woman and it’s too bad, because I genuinely liked her. Maybe there’s a part of me who still does. But I don’t like victims … especially fake ones.