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?

8 comments:

  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.

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  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....

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  3. People do this?

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

    -Mr. Y Chromosome

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  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.

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  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.

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

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  7. We must've been separated at birth.

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  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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Gentle Readers:

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xxx, Poppy.