Thursday, March 23, 2006

Confession: I've faked it. Many times, too.

Well, I took the DNA test Badger wrote about recently. And I discovered that not only am I not particularly feminine, I am absolutely lacking in empathy. Probably to a pathological degree.

See that little teensy maroon box at the bottom of the square? The one you can barely see? That represents how much empathy I have. I'm surprised it even showed up, because I scored zero.

So color me unsociable, but I just can't stand it when people piss and moan. All someone has to do is start complaining or crying, and I hate her. Unless she makes it funny.

Not that I don't piss and moan myself, but that's hey, that's an utter lack of empathy for you--we unempathetic types care deeply about our own problems and not at all about yours. Sorry; that's just the way we are. (Well, I'm not really sorry. Actually, I couldn't care less that I don't care about your problems.)

So ... if and when you've whined about your life in my presence, and I've acted sympathetic? I deserve an Oscar, man, because I was acting. Unlike former President Clinton, I do not feel your pain; I'm probably way too busy ignoring my own pain, trying to make it funny, and GETTING ON WITH THINGS.

Honestly, I've had friends who get into the endless soul-searching, the asking me for my advice, the bitching, kvetching, the pissing-and-moaning, the calling me up in tears ... and after a while I feel like I could be replaced with a robot that was programmed to make soothing remarks every two minutes.

I mean, OK, OK, I realize that Person A.'s ex-husband is a needle-dicked psycho alcoholic non-child-support-paying bastard.

Or yeah, maybe leaving the husband and two children under the age of five wasn't the recipe for long-term happiness Person B. had envisioned. But how sorry am I supposed to feel that these people have not only the amazing ability to make one bad decision after another, but an equally well-developed ability to spend decades in tedious post-mortems on how and why they fucked up their lives?

Honestly. Boo-fucking-hoo. Take up jogging, will you? Or yoga. Or something. Just. stop. whining.

Better yet--be like Jen--make it funny and write a book about it.

I mean, is it too much to fucking ask that people at least try to be a little bit entertaining?


  1. Now see, people used to do that to me, too. But then I got all bitchy about it or something, and they stopped. So you should try being bitchier, maybe.

  2. I love this post. Some of the brightest women I know are trapped in the poor me loop - and hell if I can figure out how to get them out of it! My grandmother (a tart tongued woman) used to tell me that if you let somebody act like a victim, they would be one for life - and lordy, do they like to tell you over and over about it....

  3. People do this?

    All I notice is women chewing or scratching off strange parts of their bodies.

    -Mr. Y Chromosome

  4. dgb - you shouldn't BE figuring out how to get them out of it.

    I have a friend who has perfected playing the victim. It's to the point that I don't want to speak to her any more. This is someone I've known since I was 5 years old, so it wasn't an easy decision to make.

  5. I'm with you on the "make it funny" front. Conversations are boring the hell out of me recently. Wish me luck with that test thingy.

  6. We are alike on the empathy thing. I love the way you wrote this! My sides are hurting from laughing.

  7. We must've been separated at birth.

  8. OUCH!

    Although I think laughter does cure just about everything, so yes, making it funny is important.

    A friend has a sign on her desk: if you're going through hell don't stop.


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xxx, Poppy.