You know the saying that if you run into one asshole, they’re probably the asshole, but if you run into 100 assholes regularly, you’re the asshole?
This saying was clearly invented before the internet, or life as we know it today in general, and the two are not mutually exclusive.
Chances are that we’re all assholes to someone.
I’ve been running into a lot of assholes lately, or as my employer would put it, having poor interpersonal interactions.
This is the paradox of being an asshole. The more tolerant and pleasant you try to be, the more people treat you like shit.
I used to get into screaming matches with people, and sometimes even physical altercations with men, until one day I realized I just didn’t care enough to bother. I didn’t want to be one of those snide people who try to pretend they’re above it all, so I’d apologize and mean it. I find these situations tiresome and pointless, and I am sorry that I somehow became involved.
The new, more stoic me who gives even less of a shit than I used to now ends up taking more crap than ever. Trying to be reasonable or diplomatic leaves you toothless, and people seem able to sense this, so I’m now getting shit from all directions.
Maybe in this world, you have to be an asshole, or commit at least one public act of brutality a month just to get people to leave you the hell alone.
I did a friend a favor this week and got nothing but shit from her, so I said goodbye via text and blocked her.
My sister acted up, and when I tried to de-escalate, she just kept yammering on.
Another friend is just as fucked up as I am, and he was texting every fucking day to check up on me, to make sure I was still a fuck up, too, so I told him everything is fine (it isn’t) and he finally stopped bothering me.
During our last argument, he said he was tired of my idle threats, and I was tempted to tell him if I was seriously threatening him, he’d know it, and it wouldn’t be idle. I’d kick the shit out of him, he knows it, and maybe I should have.
I’ve grown much more used to being alone than most, and my solution, for better and worse, has been to just stay away from people. I’m avoiding my mother and sister right now because they’ve become increasingly more annoying, and I was never used to seeing them this much–almost every weekend–before my father died.
My dad was an asshole, but he at least served as a buffer. My mom had been stuck with the dumb bastard for almost 50 years, so she’s not used to being alone.
Ever since he died nearly three years ago, I’ve been expected to visit every weekend, and my sister has as well, but because she lives further away, she only comes every other weekend. I still bring my mom food and do that kind of shit, but I’m trying to spend less time with them.
After working at least 45 to 50 hours a week, plus doing my laundry, shopping for groceries, and trying to keep my small apartment from turning into a pigsty, my already desolate social life is gone, which is fine.
More importantly, I hate my job and have become a complete alcoholic. I can’t make it through a shift without 2 valiums and a twelve pack. Luckily, I work from home, because if these fuckers saw me, I’d be put through a wringer of mandatory AA meetings and other horseshit.
What matters to me–what has always mattered to me–is having a way out. I still review calculus once a year just in case I have to tutor again, and I’ve already wasted 30 years of my life playing guitar. Both skills are use it or lose it, and I don’t have the time or energy to practice if I’m stuck at my mom’s house every weekend while my mom and sister mainly stare at their phones.
I’m not a large person, but I’m about half a foot taller than either of my parents. Whenever they needed a heavy object moved, they called, and I was fine with that, but I can’t concentrate on calculus while my mom and sister are debating what to not really watch next while they’re on their phones, and I don’t expect them to tolerate me playing the guitar all the time.
The best I ever was at guitar, I was living off unemployment insurance alone and playing 6 hours a day. If there was something tricky, I’d sometimes have to play it hundreds or thousands of times again and again, and I understand that this can drive people crazy, so I did it alone, but even switching to guitar was a compromise.
I was much better at playing the drums, but unless you have access to a studio or live in the middle of nowhere, try getting away with that without being evicted.
I did come to peace with math. Doing higher math drunk isn’t easy, but I accepted that I’d better learn how, because staying sober is out of the question.
I also hate being touched, and my mom still can’t accept that.
So I have no real friends and can’t stand my family, which is not too unusual, but even with the little “free time” I have, I can get no peace unless I turn off the phone and sleep, which I’ve been doing more and more.
I don’t think I could tutor adults anymore. Kids are at least smart enough to know that they don’t know what they’re doing. Adults–even a math major–have argued that from their perspective, or in their opinion, the question could have been interpreted in a different way, and that their opinion is valid. I finally snapped at one and said her opinion did not fucking matter. It’s fucking math. It wasn’t even a word question, just a question about sets, and she was appalled.
Even outside of math, I constantly remind people that what they think doesn’t matter, only what they can prove with valid evidence. I thought math was a safe haven from this horseshit, and it was for a time, but no longer.
The insane hours I had to work while we still admitted COVID is a problem derailed my yearly reviews, and I was stunned by how much I forgot, or how much I could still do but no longer clearly explain.
Still, the primary issue is the guitar. I made good money busking, usually between $100 to $200 for 3 hours of basically practicing in public, but you need to know and be able to sing at least a dozen songs very well, add to this weekly, and be able to improvise and take requests. There was a point I could do that if the requester could at least carry a tune, even if I’d never heard of the song. These guys were almost always drunk, told me once I got the basic chords right, and wanted to sing themselves. It wasn’t pretty, but they left the most money, and sometimes cheeseburgers from McDonald’s, beer, or if I was really lucky, a blunt.
I love my mom and my sister, and I love some of my old friends, even the ones I kind of hate, but this is my only life, and I can’t live it if it’s taken for granted I’ll always be there for somebody else.
So instead of being an asshole, I’m absent.
I’m at the age where I don't expect to make any new friends or have any new serious girlfriends, which is both sad and a relief.
I’m also at the age where it’s become almost impossible to take any crap, and I’m sick of working for a future we’ll never have.
At some point, I’m going to end up busking again and tutoring, and if I fail, I don’t want to have anyone to blame except for myself.
If this means being an anti-social hermit, so be it.
August 2023 last drunk. December 2023 last cigarette. January b12 shots at home once a week. Intend to 1 a month starting May - then once a week again Oct - May. LDN just started. GSH injections m-f starting tomorrow. Walking at least 2 miles 3 times a week. Using a borax for laundry additive and bath soak. The b12 I initially got from anti aging compounder - but now going to buy livestock bottle - works the same. Now go figure out how to streamline my cleaning the laundry I only do once a month. Fuckem all. Self entertaining shut in. But keep mother and sister close as possible. Good luck.