SUPERFICIAL JEALOUSIES...and other vices
I've somehow found myself in the midst of a blogging war with no idea of how I got there or how to get out.It all started when a friend asked me to comment on his friend's blog to encourage her in her blogging endeavor. I made a few friendly comments here and there, only to find out that she's been spreading rumors about me via the net.
Apparently she has written male participants with the claims that I'm a lesbian (I'm not) and that I am "over-rated". I know about these letters because my friends are sharing them with me.I am perplexed as to why she would do this.
She's a pretty girl in her own right, and seems very nice to everyone else but me. I've not said or done a thing to draw her ire.I know she reads my blog quite regularly. Should I say something or just ignore her?Signed,
A Fan of the Crabby One.
Dear Overrated Fake Lesbian:
Don’t underestimate the power of the little green-eyed, thin-lipped monster. Petty jealousy, thy name is woman! Sad, but true – more women than men tend to indulge their spiteful side in this sort of cowardly character assassination. This internet babe is despising you from afar – for what reason, who can say? I’m not entirely sure why.
Now, before I get a litany of hate mail from female readers calling me a sexist dog for insinuating that ‘all’ women are spiteful I want to say two things – first; I never said any such nonsense. Second, I’ll wear the moniker of ‘dog’ proudly any day of the week.
A dog is loyal, loving, trustworthy, faithful, devoted and a true companion throughout the years. Cats, on the other hand, are finicky, temperamental, shifty, vindictive and independent to the point of cold-shouldering you – except if they require food and refreshment of their litter.
Put bluntly – you’ve a hellcat on your heels right now. Wouldn’t you have preferred a Doberman Pincher instead?
You say this wench is attractive – gee, like only ugly girls have low self esteem?!? NOT! On the contrary, there are a lot of beautiful women out there today who simply are not very attractive on the inside – a shame, since they have every other deportment to make them a fine companion for anyone…except the one essential – an understanding heart. Without that, any woman who fancies herself the goddess might just as well be made of bronze and decorated with pigeon excrement in the courtyard of some fashionable district. She’s of no use to herself or anyone so long as her tiara isn’t allowed to slip just a bit.
Here’s the deal with jealousy. We all have an innate bit of it in us. Some people grow out of it as they mature – that is, it creeps up now and then, but remains a passing thought rather than at the crux of some deep seeded anti-sentiment. But some people never part company with their less than flattering alter ego. In fact, they fuel it almost daily with more jealous thoughts darting about the ravaged recesses of their mind.
I’ll bet my reputation on the fact that you’re not the only woman this girl hates. In fact, she probably has more women lined up on the list of flying daggers than men. That’s a shame, because she’ll never be able to bond with ‘the girls’ in a way that is healthy or beneficial to her own outlook.
There are many reasons one might hate another person – most of them superficial. But here’s the real deal. If she hates you because you’re beautiful, then she’s going to hate a lot more people the older she gets. Because no matter how attractive one is at the outset of youth – the numbers increasingly change (and not in one’s favor) the more mileage gets attached to the chasse. That’s why jealousy is such a waste of time – you can’t win with it – EVER!
The crabby critic
I’m dating a guy who I love but is not my equal physically. I’ve always been considered attractive. He’s not. But he’s a great guy and he makes me laugh. The thing is, I feel uncomfortable with the stares we get when we’re out together. It’s like everyone’s saying “what’s she doing with that ugly guy?”
What should I do?
Brenda in British Columbia
Dear Self Inflated Ego Tripper:
That isn’t what people will be saying about you after they read this. They’ll be saying, “Why is such a great guy hanging around with that arrogant, self-indulgent airhead of a princess?!?”
If you truly loved this guy his looks wouldn’t matter – AT ALL and PERIOD! You’d find his inner-self ultra sexy and think that anybody who didn’t get the reason why you two are a couple complete and totally superficial idiots. Sadly, for the guy – I mean, you’re just as hung up on physical attraction as the rest you report to find misguided. Here’s the deal with attraction – personal or otherwise: it comes from within.
Personality is a far more enticing accoutrement than firm pecs or blue eyes. The problem with you, sex kitten, is that you still can’t classify personality because you can’t see it.
This guy is the hottest property in town – but you seem to think that quality pales because he doesn’t look like Antonio Sabato Jr. in his Calvins. What a pity. I only wish your man would write me for some advice. I’d start by telling him not to invest so much of his personality in you – you clearly haven’t invested in his.
The crabby critic
Who do you think you are? You give out advice without knowing anything about anything. You’re not a doctor, shrink or any other kind of comfort.
Dear Brazen Coward:
The least you could have done was attach a first name to your insult. Clearly, you didn’t spend much time reading my column or did but didn’t get much out of what little you read.
Sorry – I’m not for everyone. I never pretended to be. And you’re right – I’m not a psychiatrist, therapist or any other sort of medical doctor. But I know who I am. Who the heck are you?!?
As for sucking? I can only say, not since I was weaned off the nipple many years ago.
Now, about not knowing “anything about anything” – I beg to differ. For example: I know that by the tone of your remark you’re bitter about something that has absolutely nothing to do with me. Whatever that is – get over it and grow up.
I also know from your lack of identification that you didn’t feel secure enough in your content to tell me who you are so that I could face you on a level playing field. Oh, well. Chicken liver for dinner tonight, I suppose.
Finally, everyone’s entitled to an opinion. You’ll forgive me if I don’t give a damn about yours.
I read you a lot. In your opinion is everyone who has more than one sexual partner a slut?
Chelsea in Wheatland
Certainly not. And I’m not going to put a fixed number on partners one should have – as say, ‘under ten’, your still a little princess, after eleven you’re working for Heidi Fleiss.
But I do wish more people would refrain from swapping bodily fluids as casually and regularly as they do their handshake.
Why? Well, there are a number of reasons. The basic ones are that you don’t want to contract a disease that will leave you baron, or, wind up pregnant with unwanted children from someone whose name you can’t even remember once the pants have been zipped.
But the more important reason is this – that as a human being with a divine soul and solid logic one is worth infinitely more than the simple sum of their erect and stimulated body parts.
Are you going to tag Mr. Right on the first try out? Probably not. But why not cut your bitter breakups down by a third by waiting to find out whether the guy (or gal) you’re with is worth pitching your modesty and underwear to in a ball on the backseat. What have you got to lose by waiting for Mr. Right instead of offering yourself on the alter of a lot of Mr. Wrongs, in the hopes that one of the frogs you’ve kissed will magically mutate into a prince?
You’ll meet a lot of people in this world, Chels.’ Only some are worth knowing intimately. The rest are barely worth knowing. Given those odds, wouldn’t you rather not know as many quite so well?
The crabby critic
I don’t know. At forty, I’m getting tired of it. My boyfriend hits me sometimes. He says it’s okay because it doesn’t leave a bruise.
Debbie in Maine
Dear Doormat Deb;
Indeed, then at forty take a good whack at him someplace where the impact won’t show. Are you serious?
Honey, here’s a clue – anybody who occasionally mistakes your misshapen butt for a punching bag isn’t dating material. More like material waste.
I don’t care what the reason is behind his giving you a light - or not so light - smack now and then. In every instance, he’s an absolute pig for doing so. Okay, so it doesn’t leave a physical scar – small comfort. What’s it done to your pride, self worth and self esteem?
You want some solid advice – pack your suitcase and leave. Tell buddy boy that if he wants to fight, there’s a sport called boxing that’s right up his alley. Oh, but I forgot – that wouldn’t be quite so fun. After all, those that take the punches in the ring are apt to hit back…and that would be a pity…because sometimes those bruises do show.
Deb, leave! – now – right now!
The crabby critic
Yesterday we had my daughter’s sweet sixteen with friends and family. Everything was going fine when my daughter rushed upstairs in tears. When I asked her what was wrong she said that a boy at the party told her she was so ugly that no guy would even consider ‘raping’ her!
My daughter is a very beautiful girl but she doesn’t think so. She’s so upset by this comment but she doesn’t want me to talk to the boy who made it.
Harold in San Francisco
I concur with your daughter. Don’t talk to that repugnant little urchin – talk to his parents.
Be calm and rational about it even though as a father I know that your first intuition will be to go over there and dislocate a couple of shoulder blades. Regardless of whether your daughter is Cinderella or the Hunchback of Notre Dame she didn’t deserve that crude snap assessment of her physical ‘worth’ by some guy who’ll be impregnating cheerleaders in a few years with his demon seed.
To be kind about the situation would be for me to say that Johnny Big-Mouth didn’t really know what he was saying – but at sixteen he knew damn well the impact his words would have. That was the whole point of the exercise – total humiliation. He succeeded – but only slightly. You see, your daughter’s going to come away from this experience with a better understanding of how some people operate in this world – by tearing down their contemporaries in order to make themselves feel better.
Be calm, Harry and comfort your daughter – the only princess in the room that or any other day of the week. The clod who made the comment is hardly Prince Charming.
The crabby critic
The other day I came home from school a total wreck. My boyfriend and I broke up. My mother says it’s no big deal. Life begins at thirty. I’m seventeen. What does she mean by that anyway?
Arlene in Kansas
Technically speaking, life began when your father impregnated your mother. Emotionally speaking, I think your mother made a fairly accurate statement about what you can expect out of life in the next few years. You see, when we’re in our teens and twenties we tend to treat every accomplishment – however minor – as the greatest deed in the free world. We also tend to view every little disheartening moment as the most cataclysmic event that narrowly escaped shattering our mental psyche.
But a wonderful epiphany takes place right around the thirty year mark. Suddenly, all the scary parts of life even out until there is only that which is presented to us as a challenge and that which challenges us to move on to better things without all the angst and terror we generally associated with the circumstance before.
You broke up with your boyfriend. So what? True, you’re not the only fish in the sea. But have you considered that he’s not the only hook?!? Let’s face facts, Arlene. You probably weren’t going to marry this guy next month, next year, or maybe never. While the circumstances of your split might seem a bitter pill to swallow now (more bitter than the one your hopefully on to prevent any little Arlene’s from entering the picture), in the long run you’re going to look back on this moment in your life and think – “Gee, wasn’t this silly?”
The answer to that contemplation would be – “Yes…it was”, but a necessary part in the evolution of growing up. Don’t wish for thirty to get here too soon. Enjoy the years between. But realize that one day all of life’s big problems will merely be specks on your tapestry of life.
The crabby critic