ass umptions


Sometimes I don’t blog because there is just too much I want to write about. This is what one of my colleagues calls “champagne problems”, as in, the kind of problems you want. I write so much so often on so many deadlines these days that the muscle is strong and flexible and ready at a moment’s notice. Of course, sometimes I worry about the quality versus the quantity, but still – this is a problem I want.

So do I write about the date I went on with the nutty leftist extremist two nights ago? Or the black tie event I attended tonight where my boss and his wife and I talked smack all night? Or my ongoing realizations as to what happens when I am unapologetic about who I am?

I choose door number one. Because once upon a time, I had a laundry list of what I wanted in a man. It was long, detailed, and there were a number of non-negotiables, one of which was politics. And while being with someone whose politics are aligned with mine is still important to me, I’m realizing that arbitrary decisions (like, the one I made about never having sex with someone who voted for Bush) just don’t always work. It always makes me sad how religion can separate people, but I’m realizing how extremism in any form has the same effect. So I went on this date with someone whose politics were completely in line with mine, but I couldn’t bear his assumption that that was the case. We’re not even into the first drink and he’s ranting about how “petrol” is the greatest evil, except for maybe being “slave to the dollar” was the greatest evil, and on and on about his “love of the earth” affects all of his choices, and how “weed makes the world a better place” and on and on and on- I’m really not doing it justice, but my brother Sean would have HATED him because he’s one of those liberals who lack nuance or reason, and Sean hates those folks more than just about anyone. I mean, he was largely right on, but what if I had been a moderate or a conservative? How dare he assume that a) I’d have the same views as him and b) that politics was ALL I wanted to talk about?

He also lacked curiosity. In two hours, he might have asked two questions, both based on information that I managed to slip in while he was talking about backpacking through South America. I mean, once upon a time, this guy might have been someone who would have lit my fire, and instead, it was all I could do to try to find a gracious way to leave. I’m very busy, I love my friends who I’d sacrificed seeing to get a drink with this guy, and I wanted OUT.

But instead of fleeing, I pushed back. I went outside, took a deep breath, went back into the bar, and asked him why he would assume that I share his politics. I told him he seemed very extreme in his views, and that I thought that was dangerous because you cannot have a rational conversation with someone when your panties are always in a bunch. (I should know- I’m the one who is usually retarded about politics.) I told him that more than ever, it was important to be curious, important to listen, important not to be so damn divisive because no one on either extreme side is ever going to listen to each other, and that is bad. I told him I agreed with most of what he said, but that his delivery was dangerous and based on assumptions.

And it was if no one had ever said these things to him before. He was fascinated. (Cue Michelle inwarding rolling eyes so hard they hurt.) I’m not going to meet him again, because I don’t have the time or energy to fight this particular battle, and even a friendship with him would be exhausting. Also, even going on this date was perfunctory, done because I thought I should, not because I was excited about it. But it reminds me how rarely people really talk to each other, really listen, really take the time to challenge and question.

Then, tonight, I poured myself into an extemely tight dress and went to a black-tie function. I don’t know which night was less fun.