I’ve been experimenting with being wrong. Granted, I’ve had 37 years of practice but this is new to me. You’d think I would have wised up to this by now, but sadly, I haven’t. Denial and arrogance are such great persuaders.
Allow me demonstrate: In Cozumel, I had dinner with my dive buddy. Our discussion turned from the day’s dives to alarm clocks and hotel culpability. I won’t bore you with the details of safe scuba diving and legal liability, that would only further what I’m trying to avoid. Suffice it to say, we disagreed. That wasn’t good enough. It almost never is. She needed to know that she was wrong and I was right. In turn, she believed I needed to know I was wrong and she was right. She reminded me of me and I told her so. I don’t think she had any clue what I meant, but that’s another matter. This discussion disintegrated. I wanted to leave the table. So did she. I thought, “What an incredibly obnoxious characteristic! Completely off putting and much more important than the original issue. Disgusting!”
Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Sirvice, are you kidding? That’s YOU!” I know. I don’t like knowing it but I’m right. And so are you.
Another instance: Tara, my first fuck (Gawd was she fun!), made the point more bluntly: “Do you know how many times that mouth of yours has talked you out of sex?” I stood in silence. (wise move)
These two scenarios, and countless other strained relations, drive home the question: “Would you rather be right or would you rather be happy?” I have to think about that.
See what I mean? I’ve been experimenting.