The Painful Truth
A conversation I had the other night made me recall a date I had once with this girl. It was my second date with her, actually, a follow-up to a first date that ended in sex. She ran into an ex-boyfriend whom she still had the hots for and wanted to know if she could drive me home so she could return to the bar and pick him up. Apparently he had a huge dick and gave her the best sex ever. The whole thing was utterly ridiculous. Seeing as our “date” was ruined anyhow, I went along with her plan. Maybe I’d read her wrong to begin with.
So the other night I was told she’s angry about something Lex wrote on NLP. This only pissed me off: I felt she was demanding respect, claiming some place of importance in my life, when she herself had not given me a second thought. I stopped myself here, thought about it a bit, and realized the truth angers people because it shows them something they’re not ready to see about themselves. Although I wouldn’t intentionally do anything to hurt her, I don’t see any reason to tiptoe around her sensitivities.
Lex has a way of reading people. He can tell who’s genuine, but more importantly he doesn’t get bitter, he doesn’t hold grudges and he helps me let go of those negative emotions. It’s much harder for me not to take things personally. This attitude of his, which I greatly respect, is reflected very clearly in his writing. The best part is he never sacrifices the truth. And sometimes, yes, the truth hurts.
I’ve gotten pissed at some things Lex has written: maybe I didn’t shine in my best light, maybe I didn’t shine at all that night, maybe I felt left out somehow—we’re not always the focus of each other’s energy. It’s possible for two people to be in the same place at the same time yet have two very different experiences. This is the nature of perspective. And whether or not I agree with it, I’m always able to appreciate the view through his eyes.
I was surprised to learn my former playdate is still reading NLP after all this time. Ironically, this makes me feel important to her in a way that I clearly wasn’t when we hooked up. Even though I moved on long ago, I can’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, her wounded pride is fair compensation for that faux date of ours.
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