So, people who don’t know me think I’m nice. It’s among many things I think are absolutely fascinating. The disjunction between the reality of who I am and how I’m treated is just stunning.
Oh I try. I try to pull in the right direction, to ‘behave the way someone nice would behave.’ But it’s really just that, most of the time.
I fight constantly against my actual nature to try and treat people well, do the right thing, leave places better than I found them, be gregarious, not always tell stories where I think I’m the hero, to be solicitous of the opinion and stories other people are excited to share, enjoy other peoples’ successes, help them with their failings and quandaries without being invasive; to ask for nothing in return.
But I’m a rank failure. I can play the game here and there. I have random moments where I actually come off as a good person. But all in all I’m a truly venomous judgemental narcissistic egomaniacal shithead.
People repeatedly treat me as if I were a good person, whatever the shit that actually means.
But people see what they want to see, clearly.
So I’m invited to social gatherings. People seem friendly and sometimes actually excited when I walk in the room. I get smiles and waves, politely smartass playful bantering comments.
I’ve overheard waitresses say “I know he’s in your section, but can I wait on Mike?” And I know it’s because I’m a heavy tipper.
I’ve been accepted into this social group at the cigar lounge by a bunch of people who clearly just don’t know any better.
Yesterday I got a text message from one of the guys at the cigar lounge, who included only one other people from the group, celebrating a personal success of his and inviting us to come hang out with him to enjoy some bourbon and a cigar to celebrate. I think I actually fist-pumped and cheered out loud at his news. It felt good but then I realized that he just doesn’t know what a jackass he’s dealing with. Or possibly just a wrong number. Either way.
Just now I shut down twitter for an hour, trying to keep myself from the distraction and ended up on facebook, where I posted some stuff about the cigars I’ve been smoking here at the cigar lounge, as well as chiming in on a couple of their posts about new cigars. Well, the proprietor came back here to my high-top holding a Fuente asking if I’d smoked that one in particular.
“This one?” I took it and examined the label which looked subtly different from other Fuente labels. “I…don’t THINK so.”
“Well you can only get those in stores. Here. That’s from me. Thanks for posting.” He…gave me a cigar? Really?
“Hey thanks man! I appreciate it. I just lit an Ashton but I’ll smoke this next!” Poor guy. He just doesn’t understand I’m actually a complete dick.
But then there are Cigargoyle, BostonActress, BlackCatsAndPoppies, Flixology, and the rest of them. All fooled, completely. I suppose they can be forgiven since I only know them on the internet. I mean how could they possibly?
I went to Johnathan’s last Friday and one of the guys who works there but was off came over and hung out at my table for a few hours and talked. I kept waiting for the people he was waiting for to show up or the few minutes he was killing sitting there to expire before he moved on to what he was really there for.
Over those couple hours we were sitting there a bunch of people pulled up to the bar got out and greeted me warmly. I only recognized about half of them. “Hey man how’ve you been! Nice to see you back in your seat. What’ve you been up to? Your hair’s gotten REALLY long. Looks good. Wish I had that much to grow out.” No idea who they were, like I say, about half the time. I’m still not sure who the hell they thought I was.
So many people in my life just…so wrong…so bad at reading people.
I mean…it’s the only thing that makes any sense.