Manipulation

This weekend I got called on something and I'm not very happy about it. For Administrative Professionals Day I got roses, and they have been sitting on my counter at home. The kids asked me where they came from and knowing that it would get back to Mr. Wrong, I said, "a friend." This, of course, while not technically a lie, is manipulation. And while I wish my friend had used a little more tact in her delivery, she was right, I am above things like this.

If I intend to rise about the crap-hole where Mr. Wrong currently resides, then I have to keep myself out of the mud, period. Quit sticking my toe in. Over the ten years I was married I became a master of manipulation, I had a very good teacher. My counselor says a lot of it was simply self preservation in such an unhealthy relationship but that is no excuse. Since the separation I have tried very hard to recognise when I am "twisting the truth," to stop it before it starts. The problem is, not only was I lying to other people, I was lying to myself. In making Mr. Wrong believe someone found me worthy enough to get flowers I was also trying to convince myself. And how screwed up is that?

Saturday night my friend and I went out for drinks. This was a HUGE deal for me because I hadn't done this in a really long time and I was VERY nervous. Turns out I had a great time, ran into some people from high school, tried an apple martini and laughed when a guy used a pick up line on my friend and she totally missed it. Seriously Mel, he did not need directions, he needed an opening!

On the way home we stopped at Sheetz, for gas and food. While Mel pumped the gas I went inside and of course started talking to some guys about the Nascar race that had concluded only hours before. None of them knew who had won, there was an accident just before the checkered flag dropped and apparently there was still some confusion. Eventually we finished up, got our food, paid for it and headed out to the car.

Before I could get in, one of the guys I had been talking to pulls up in his truck - this is a Powhatan truck, older, on a lift, big tires, gun rack, and I didn't see it but I'm pretty sure there had to be a Confederate flag on there somewhere - anyway he tells me he called someone and Clint Bowyer won. And we start talking about Jr., I'm not disappointed Jr. crashed, redneck truck guy is. We talk a few more minutes and finally I turn away and get in the car. Mel asks "who is that?" I have no idea, I just met him a few minutes ago. It then occurs to me, this guy went out to his truck, called someone at 1 in the morning to find out who won the race and then waited for me to come outside to tell me. So he could talk to me again.

This realization gives my ego a boost. A real boost. Why am I telling you all this? Because I have realised these two incidents stand in stark contrast to each other. I'm sure you can guess which me I like better. So keep calling me on my BS, you are right, I'm better than that, seriously.