This Can't Be Good

As an alert conversationalist I brace myself when people address me with any of the following dialogical openings:

Do these jeans make me look fat?

This is a question usually posed by a woman and nothing good can come from it. No matter what you think might be the right answer, you're in trouble. The question wouldn't have been voiced in the first place if someone wasn't already feeling self~conscious and there's something decidedly sinister about a person framing questions under this influence. Obviously you can't say: maybe a little chunky around the waist. But the truth is you probably won't have much success with: No, baby, those jeans make you look incredible! for the simple reason... she will without exception conclude you're lying. The next two to three weeks will be inevitably unbearable. The most honest answer to such questions is: May day! May day! Translated from the french m'aidez meaning help me!

Would you like to see an easier way to do that?

I usually hear this question when I'm learning something new. Could be snowboarding (The first time I went snowboarding I discovered that I'm a natural skydiver. As I recall that was also the last time I went snowboarding. When it occurred to me months later, I mentioned to my sadistic mentor that I'd been surprised at how vast the bunny slopes had been. At which time he condescended to mention that we had actually skipped the bunny slopes completely. Especially thoughtful of him considering that he had taken me to a bar earlier that morning and treated me to a certifiably insane quantity of Alabama Slammers, but, predictably, I digress). So yes I could be learning a new recreation like snowboarding or a new kind of software or a cullinary technique for a cuisine I've never previously prepared. Eventually some dogooder will happen along and ask: Would you like to see an easier way to do that? The problem is, more than helping you, they are capitalizing on an opportunity to show off how much more proficient they are than you at the task in question. The reason their skills are superior has nothing to do with a revolutionary approach, and everything to do with essential hours and years of practice which you would yourself would be embarking upon at this very moment were it not for their insatiable propensity for exasperating interference. I find there are usually three or four different ways to do the same thing and what they define as "an easier way" is really just the specific style they are most comfortable with. Almost any other method will be just as good if only you could be left alone long enough to work it out.

I'm not racist, but. . .

The problem with a conversation beginning this way (and for some reason it must be articulated in a whisper as though perhaps it would provoke a scandal were it overheard) is that what follows registers as undeniably racist approximately 98.9% of the time. It amounts to a disclaimer designed to justify the unjustifiable attitude about to be espoused. You should always contradict the speaker before another syllable is pronounced by saying "Yes you are." This is not necessarily endorsed in the book How to Win Friends and Influence People, but say it anyway. People should be reminded as often as possible that ignorance is not universally tolerated.

I don't mean to offend you, but. . .

Just like the racism disclaimer, what follows will be offensive. This happened to me a couple days ago. I was telling a story (however fictitious) about accidentally dismembering a fellow's arm for touching my girlfriend. And this lady that I've worked with for two years is visibly startled with my story. "I don't mean to offend you," she says, "but I thought you swung the other way." I have to be careful with this because I don't think there's anything at all wrong with being gay so it's inconsistent to say I was offended, but I'd prefer to be perceived as masculine and manly and studly and so forth. It didn't help that her remark prompted sniggering and tittering from several folks standing around. My delicate pride was absolutely injured though I struggled to conceal it. She went on to say her assumption was based on how nice I am and how I walk as though I have weightless feet. Maybe twenty or thirty other people have confessed similar suspicions to me over the past decade or so. Sometimes they base it on the way I talk or how smart I am or my artistic interests or my taste in music or effeminate gestures or even just my vegetarian diet. Thus far I have no clever retort for this humiliation. I've thought about just saying I would be gay except I'm too busy fornicating with your mother. Perhaps the solution is to focus on how it makes me feel and to modify my psychological reaction. To accept myself unconditionally and to remind myself that most people are dumber than petrified mud puddles.