All's Fair in Love and Blogging

I suppose this day had to come.  One can pepper one's blog posts with tidbits about one's dating life, dating partners, and dating opinions for only so long before one is called to the carpet for something one wrote.  And by "one," I mean me. 

Whether it is the result of a personality trait of mine or a symptom of the relative anonymity the vastness of the internet affords, I try to communicate what I think without fear of judgment and to use adjectives and other generally descriptive language to effect that communication as effectively and precisely as possible.  For that reason, I anticipate a certain amount of dissonance from the public at large and from those I write about in particular.  Clearly, some topics have spawned debate.  I have even had exes contact me to comment upon or clarify something they read about themselves in my posts. 

Recently, however, someone contacted me about a description of himself in one of my older posts -- a guy I had gone on one, maybe two, dates with months and months ago (we'll call him Mr. X).  I had not exactly anticipated Mr. X ever reading what I had written about him, but I can hardly be surprised because, as he pointed out, I was quite careless about protecting him from it.  While I didn't exactly intend for him to read it, I suppose I was subconsciously ambivalent or perhaps even wanted him to read what I had written.  In a way, it was a mode of communicating feelings I had had about him but that I deemed neither worthy nor appropriate for communication at the time.  Needless to say, my description of Mr. X was not what one would choose to read about oneself in a public forum.

Because I am one who rises to the occasion for self-defense, what ensued was a lengthy email exchange that I will mildly describe as snide from both sides.  Unfortunately, as is commonplace in the world of the written word, a lot of the conflict hinged on interpretation of tone and intention.  I.e. I felt I was using descriptive language that best communicated my opinion and feelings on the topic; Mr. X felt I was unnecessarily harsh and demeaning.  The separation between what I meant and how he felt was a matter of degree.  (I apologized and admitted my language was insensitive, but my apology was on scale with my intentions not with the depth of his hurt feelings.  Therefore, the sparring had to continue either until he felt I had suffered in kind or until he tired of the volley.)

Now, I believe that there are two kinds of days:  (a) good days and (b) days when you learn something.  The day of the email from Mr. X was of the latter sort.  So, as usual, I got to thinking.  And, upon further analysis, I determined that Mr. X's issue, apart from the retributive instinct I saw kicking in, consisted of a two-fold folly on my part: (1) Much of his discourse consisted of chastising me for my choice to say what I did in a "public forum," and (2) the remainder of his anger was the result of what he characterized as "talking shit" about him.

The "public forum" aspect was a moot point, I argued to him.  While Mr. X was certainly able to recognize himself, he was at the time and remains to this day, for all intents and purposes, completely anonymous to the entire (very small) readership of this blog.  In fact, I doubt anyone reading this now is even aware of his existence in the world, let alone his association with me.  It was, after all, only one or two dates (that, I'll admit, I doubt I even mentioned to anyone until now).  In any case, there was pretty much zero risk of identification.

And, in my estimation, "talking shit" involves an intent to publicly defame, which the anonymity aspect would negate as well, not to mention the fact that, though unfavorable, I believe what I said to be true.  (I have been informed that I came to this conclusion because I am a lawyer and too logical for my own good.)  So, (backtracking a bit) I guess the real issue for Mr. X was that I had a negative opinion of him in the first place.  (Busted -- my fault for putting it somewhere where he could see it.)  And, yes, negative opinions can sting especially when they touch on a sensitive topic.  But, come on, man -- we hardly knew each other.  Why does my opinion matter all that much?

Only Mr. X knows for sure.  But, in my experience, the opinions that matter most are the ones that come from someone in whom we have established credibility.  Despite only going on one or two dates, Mr. X and I did quite a bit of chatting, over the course of which it became clear that we got along well on a personality level.  As humans, we are all constantly in search of affirmation.  And, when someone comes along that validates us as people, we tend to accredit them with a certain level of authority on the topic.  Someone who likes us automatically becomes an expert on who to like.  But, if that now-expert then exhibits a negative opinion of us, what are we to do?

While the bad opinions of those of little consequence to us prove relatively easy to disregard, the bad opinions of those in whom we have vested some amount of authority can feel like an "F" to an overachiever.  This is especially true for those soft spots where we have only a tenuous grasp on our positive image of ourselves to begin with.  For instance, a stanger on the street might call a woman "fat" in a fit of frustration and be shortly dismissed by her as petty.  But, if her boyfriend were to call her "fat", it would feel like a kick in the gut.  It is the rare female who would meet that accusation with a polite "We'll agree to disagree."

In the end, the opinions of others only matter to the extent we let them.  The only truly consequential opinion is the one we have of ourselves.  So, the natural reaction when someone who we've vested with authority "talks trash" about us is to extricate ourselves from that authority.  It would be nice if simply saying "No, I don't care what you think" was enough.  But, deny as we might, the reality is that we do (or did at some point) care.  Instead we must either believe that we are, indeed, "fat" because the authority says so; or, we must decide that the authority is wrong, which means we were also wrong to place our faith in them to begin with.  Damned if you do; damned if you don't. 

In the end, the easiest and most effective way to remove our self-perception from the opinion of another is to denigrate that person until the credibility is figuratively beat out of him or her:  We were deceived as to his or her character.  We so innocently and optimistically trusted this wolf in sheep's clothing.  The offense!  The revulsion!  The villain!  How dare he think I'm fat when I am clearly flawless!  The fault lies with him! 

A simple difference of opinion is too benign an explanation for something so hurtful, so the only solution is indignance.

Maybe this explains the level of Mr. X's animosity toward me for believing him to be less than ideal.  Maybe it doesn't.  But, what it does do for sure is give me pause and a little more patience when it comes to the irrational reactions of myself and others.  After all, we're all just boys and girls flailing around the big, wide-open universe trying to find someone to love who loves us back.  Sometimes, we'll put our faith in people who let us down.  But, hopefully, that will only serve to help us appreciate more those who don't.

I celebrated my 29th birthday this past weekend, which served as a fantastic reminder that, while the world judges us harshly for the people that we are, our friends love us dearly for the people that we want to be.  Great moments and great memories were made this weekend all over town...

Sacred Chow
Sullivan St. btw Bleecker and 3rd

This is the third organic/vegetarian/vegan place I have been since moving to New York.  I'd say it's standard fare as far as this sort of joint goes.  The restaurant itself was tiny and cute, and the waitress was pleasant.  They had plenty of gluten-free options for L to choose from.  One of the nice things about it was the rotating specialty menu -- a different soup, side dish, and type of hummus every day.  The day we went was walnut pesto hummus.  Possibly the best hummus I've ever had.  Really something special.  This, like all places of this genre, is not for picky eaters. 

The Grisly Pear
MacDougal btw Bleecker and 3rd

There are two schools of thought when it comes to karaoke -- the private room school and the open bar school.  Some karaoke'ers prefer to rent the private room and rock out with only their nearest and dearest to hear.  Others prefer throwing their hat in the ring with the rest of us and belting out 80's classics in the wide open bar.  I generally opt for the latter, which is why I love the Grisly Pear.  If you are not prepared to hunker down for the long haul, appreciate the stylings of the local crew, and make a complete ass of yourself, then you are in the wrong place.  That being said, the karaoke is in the back.  So, there is also "normal" bar space.  But, if you're looking for a cozy, intimate, we're-all-friends-here karaoke vibe, look no further.  My one complaint: the DJ unilaterally changed the song order at his discretion, so you could end up waiting hours for your song to come up.  And, if you're wondering, on this particular night my song of choice was "I Touch Myself" by The Divinyls.  That song was made for karaoke.


Mole
Allen St. btw E. Houston St. and Stanton St.

I love mole.  The sauce, not the restaurant.  And,  have had gooood mole in Mexico and in Cleveland.  So far, I have not had good mole in New York.  I did not like this mole -- it didn't make use of all of the flavors typical in mole.  I am no food critic, so I can't aptly describe it, but it was missing something.  It was a little bitter, in fact, and not as spicy as it should have been.  The food, in general, however was pretty good.  Although, you can get Mexican food just as good for less money elsewhere.  I liked the small, crowded atmosphere.  And, the waitstaff bent over backwards to be accommodating, kind, and helpful. 

Esca
West 43rd St. btw 9th and 10th Ave.

E and I went to see Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson a couple of nights ago (which I highly recommend, by the way).  And, set out in search of dinner afterwards.  This place was not too far a walk from the theatre on W. 45th, and E had been there a couple times before with good results.  I have got to say that I loved this place.  Maybe it was the company or my good mood, but everything was perfect from start to finish.  The staff was knowledgeable and polite.  The food was tasty and unpretentious.  And the atmosphere struck a nice balance between sophisticated and rustic.  The menu was dominated by seafood.  We had a scallop trio crudo that was maybe the freshest raw shellfish I have ever had.  And the salt-crusted fish, baked under three pounds of salt and cracked at a table in the middle of the dining room was flaky and mild, just the way it was meant to be.  Granted, I had the benefit of being there with an expert orderer who chose our entire menu, but I would hazard a guess that you really can't go wrong even on your own.