D is for Disappointment

Dude is lucky. That is all I can say. He is lucky because I took the high road and lucky because I took some time to cool down. Lucky because what I am about to say is nothing compared to what I could.

None the less, Mr. Sweet Thang is dead. Not the man but the moniker.

Nope, Dude or Doug or D-Bag or Disappointment pretty much burned his rights to anonymity last night when he outlined his theories on dating which included “Climbing the Ladder.”

“Here is what you do. You find some chick who you are aren’t that attracted to but who is cool enough and you just bang her until someone better comes along. That is how I got the hottest chick I ever dated.” He then proceeded to describe said female and the runner up.

We were having dinner with V and another mutual friend and for reasons I don’t quite understand this guy decided to perform stand up. He wasn’t funny.

What he was, was mean, hurtful, prejudice, spiteful, crass and just plain asinine.

I have dated some real winners in my day but I have never before been forced to sit and tolerate the type BS he was spewing, not around or near me but straight in my direction. It was intentional, pointed, so much so that I spent the better part of his rant trying to figure out what I had done to deserve this type of behavior.

And then I checked myself – nothing rationalized that type of BS.

It wasn’t the fact that he insulted my job or my religion, my moral principals or my physical appearance. And it wasn’t the fact that no one said anything, which sucked but was understandable given how bizarre he was behaving. It wasn’t even the fact that when I finally had enough and got up mid-meal and left, that he merely laughed because he was so amused with himself.

It was the fact that he knew exactly what he was doing, he knew that it was shitty and he had the nerve to fall back on the “It’s just who I am” excuse.

You know what I say to that? Grow a pair. Man up.

As a society we spend billions of dollars a year on improvement. Home repairs and car repairs and maintaining or enhancing our physical appearance.

Botox and treadmills, diet drinks and implants. Bigger muscles, increased endurance, changes in quantities of the hair in various locales.

And yet, when we act like shits, we are stubborn or arrogant, mean or unempathetic it is too easy to say, "That is just who I am."

I have dated so many guys, I have known so many friends who use this excuse as a way to get out of taking a long hard look at their "stuff."

I get it - we all have "stuff" and I believe that we have to give each other a little leeway, some room to navigate through and around our "stuff."

But having issues is no excuse to be unkind.

There are very few things that make me really angry. I have been thinking about this a lot lately, trying to really remember all the times within the last few years that I have been that kind of upset. Every single time I have reached that point, where my whole body tenses, my throat gets dry and my cheeks get flush, there has been an issue of unfairness - that I have perceived to have been treated unfairly or unfairness was put on someone I love.

I didn't deserve the jabbings I got last night and the fact that "that is just who he is" is not good enough.

Your behavior hurts people? Man up. Become better. Grow.

Life is short and while changes that involve the core of who we are are difficult and sometimes painful, they are necessary, imperative lest we live a shallow life.

I have low expectations that the former Mr. Sweet Thang would give two shits about my feelings about his behavior, or thoughts on its deeper meaning. I am pretty sure that he could care less that I was bummed not about losing someone I was casually dating but at losing someone I could have cosidered a friend. No I am pretty sure he made his feelings about me abundantly clear when he said, "You know I am like an Avril Lavigne song. Look it up and then you will understand why I am one way with you and one way around other people."

D is for Doug. D is for sad, sad disappointment.