Before the plague, I planned to skip a gathering in my honor (!) because an uninvited guest tweeted they’d be in my ‘hood.
My boss doesn’t go to anyone’s parties. But he was coming out for mine. So I had to swallow my pride and admit I wasn’t going.
He wasn’t having me. I would be there, darn it.
I don’t say no to this guy. I went. And between human and divine intervention, it worked out fine.
In the end, I would have been terribly sorry to miss out.
History repeated last week. I knew there was a chance that lookyloo would put on a human suit and shapeshift into my line of sight.
I debated whether to rent a car or a security guard or both. In the end, I decided to go with remarks I’ve waited a long time to deliver.
Then I realized, that’s what they want.
Me.
To react.
To acknowledge them.
To give any sort of shit beyond what might happen to my own safety and reputation if this person is as bonkers in real life as they are online.
For a moment, I thought, yeah say something. You’ve waited forever to reality-check this person.
Then I thought, nah.
They’ve gotten their wish. They are in my line of sight. They think they are getting my goat. Let them enjoy that.
Maybe they’ll finally lose the taste for having my name in their mouth.
Baby don’t do corners
Either way, I thought, wow — THIS is what’s behind that iPhone keyboard. Behind all those put-downs and quasi-truths and never-ending claims of superiority.
OK then.
Once again, I would have been terribly sorry to miss out on what turned out to be another very special event.