Courage and the Smallest Sliver of Deniability
Courage is a fickle thing. Even for those who seem pretty courageous under normal circumstances. I mean, once you get to thinking, there are so many possibilities. Think a little more and you'll have talked yourself into a near impossibility. Let me just say, when faced with the impossible, and/or near impossible, even the most courageous run and hide. It's a fact, unless you're Douglas MacArthur or dumb. I assure you, I'm neither. Incidentally, I am also not courageous even under the of best conditions.
Even when I have nothing to lose, I can easily convince myself that I'm due to be out my last cent and three fingers on my dominant hand if I continue on. A little thought and BAM! I'm right there wallowing in the negative. By negative, I mean that part of me that insists that there's no fucking way in Hell that I'll ever accomplish such-and-such. 'Such-and-such' may equate to anything from a date with a pretty girl to petting a snake to speaking to my former boss. In all such instances, I am decidedly chicken-shit. And I'm only moderately ashamed to admit it.
When courage on my part is apparently required, I generally prefer that people do things for me or not get done at all. It may seem a weensy bit pussy from the outside looking in, but I don't feel that I've lost much in life by not petting snakes or speaking to my former boss (in fact, I would argue that my inability to do the latter has resulted in a bit of unexpected Grace). What about the dating pretty girls part? Yeah, that. I tell myself that even though I may have missed out on a few pretty girls, I've also missed out on a rash of rejection. When weighing the smorgasbord of alternatives, staying silent and thus alone usually wins out. Rejection bites ass, friends. Who wants to line themselves up for a whole lotta that? Just a couple crazy fuckers you really don't want to associate with anyway. Well, and me on certain very specific ugly, ugly occasions.
All that said, I probably just need to hold the courageous part of me at gunpoint and get on with life for a minute. Go ahead make my day, asshole. I'm ready for you. With my teeth chattering and sphincter clinched. I don't see it going very well. Words don't come easy when biological functions become illogical. I'd probably just get to hoping that a sniper killed us both before I got the words out. Don't laugh. Death occasionally seems like it beats rejection. Right in the middle when your exit strategy isn't working quickly enough.
This is why I prefer text messages. Seriously, thank God for the guy who invented that little twenty-first century treasure. What do I love about text message (when faced with potential rejection)? Let me create a little list for you...
* A lack of response can be attributed to many things, including 'her fingers got cut off in a tragic industrial accident' or 'the message got lost in the great beyond of cyber space and she never got it'.
* You can say you were drunk when you sent it. Even if it's 1:24PM and you're supposed to be at work at the time. Maybe you stopped off at Serrano's for a mango margarita on your lunch hour. How in the Hell does she know you're stone-cold sober and holed up in a stall in the ladies' room at work on your afternoon break?
* Maybe you didn't mean 'a date', even though it's exactly what you asked. Text messages sometimes fail to fully flesh out the nuances like a live conversation can.
* Someone stole your phone and it wasn't you who sent the message. Maybe you went to the bathroom and left your phone on the table and a friend got a little too toasty off one mango margarita. Or maybe you knew she took the phone but given that you were on your second mango margarita, the perverse reality of the situation didn't hit you until later. When it was too late to do much about it except pray.
* You intended to send the message to another pretty girl, but somehow your Blackberry got it's wires crossed and you sent it to the wrong person. Then once she responded you had to play along.
* You don't have to repond after she responds. Reference first bullet point, but think in reverse.
I think it's apparent that 'plausible deniability' summarizes the majority of these so-call perks. Text messages provide that better than any other method of communciation. A phone call means you may actually have to speak and once you actually verbalize your intentions any kind of deniability goes out the window. This also includes the leaving of a voice mail. What about an email? Here's why not - Email requires forethought, planning, and more words than a simple text message. You can't just say, 'Hey, wanna go on a date with me?' and hit send. It's not that easy. An email requires a 'dear so-and-so' and a 'sincerely, you'. Once you put her name in an email, you're fucked. Once you sign yours, you're fucked. And really, who has access to your email account? Deniability has run screaming from the building at this point. You and your lack of courage are screwed.
What did we do before text messages? Send a page? Even better. 'Oops, I must have paged the wrong number. Sorry, Sweetpea.' Excellent deniability. Except no one has a pager anymore. Thanks to the text message, which is a pretty good second. Remember the key to all this lost courage is deniability. Because I assure you, whatever courage you once had will abdicate when one of two things happens, (1) she replies or (2) she doesn't reply. However, if you retain even a sliver of deniability, you don't need courage. All is not lost. You can deny everything. Every last damn little thing.
And that's what I generally fall back upon when my courage gets the better of me and acts on its own behalf. Of course, when that reply comes or doesn't come, courage is always in the outhouse or watching the last quarter of a football game and can't be reached. At that point, it's every man for himself. Deny. Deny. Deny. I promise it's the best way. Remember if you do anything, do it via text. TEXT. Then if you must, DENY.vI tell you what. Try it next time. If it doesn't work, I'll give you your money back.
Even when I have nothing to lose, I can easily convince myself that I'm due to be out my last cent and three fingers on my dominant hand if I continue on. A little thought and BAM! I'm right there wallowing in the negative. By negative, I mean that part of me that insists that there's no fucking way in Hell that I'll ever accomplish such-and-such. 'Such-and-such' may equate to anything from a date with a pretty girl to petting a snake to speaking to my former boss. In all such instances, I am decidedly chicken-shit. And I'm only moderately ashamed to admit it.
When courage on my part is apparently required, I generally prefer that people do things for me or not get done at all. It may seem a weensy bit pussy from the outside looking in, but I don't feel that I've lost much in life by not petting snakes or speaking to my former boss (in fact, I would argue that my inability to do the latter has resulted in a bit of unexpected Grace). What about the dating pretty girls part? Yeah, that. I tell myself that even though I may have missed out on a few pretty girls, I've also missed out on a rash of rejection. When weighing the smorgasbord of alternatives, staying silent and thus alone usually wins out. Rejection bites ass, friends. Who wants to line themselves up for a whole lotta that? Just a couple crazy fuckers you really don't want to associate with anyway. Well, and me on certain very specific ugly, ugly occasions.
All that said, I probably just need to hold the courageous part of me at gunpoint and get on with life for a minute. Go ahead make my day, asshole. I'm ready for you. With my teeth chattering and sphincter clinched. I don't see it going very well. Words don't come easy when biological functions become illogical. I'd probably just get to hoping that a sniper killed us both before I got the words out. Don't laugh. Death occasionally seems like it beats rejection. Right in the middle when your exit strategy isn't working quickly enough.
This is why I prefer text messages. Seriously, thank God for the guy who invented that little twenty-first century treasure. What do I love about text message (when faced with potential rejection)? Let me create a little list for you...
* A lack of response can be attributed to many things, including 'her fingers got cut off in a tragic industrial accident' or 'the message got lost in the great beyond of cyber space and she never got it'.
* You can say you were drunk when you sent it. Even if it's 1:24PM and you're supposed to be at work at the time. Maybe you stopped off at Serrano's for a mango margarita on your lunch hour. How in the Hell does she know you're stone-cold sober and holed up in a stall in the ladies' room at work on your afternoon break?
* Maybe you didn't mean 'a date', even though it's exactly what you asked. Text messages sometimes fail to fully flesh out the nuances like a live conversation can.
* Someone stole your phone and it wasn't you who sent the message. Maybe you went to the bathroom and left your phone on the table and a friend got a little too toasty off one mango margarita. Or maybe you knew she took the phone but given that you were on your second mango margarita, the perverse reality of the situation didn't hit you until later. When it was too late to do much about it except pray.
* You intended to send the message to another pretty girl, but somehow your Blackberry got it's wires crossed and you sent it to the wrong person. Then once she responded you had to play along.
* You don't have to repond after she responds. Reference first bullet point, but think in reverse.
I think it's apparent that 'plausible deniability' summarizes the majority of these so-call perks. Text messages provide that better than any other method of communciation. A phone call means you may actually have to speak and once you actually verbalize your intentions any kind of deniability goes out the window. This also includes the leaving of a voice mail. What about an email? Here's why not - Email requires forethought, planning, and more words than a simple text message. You can't just say, 'Hey, wanna go on a date with me?' and hit send. It's not that easy. An email requires a 'dear so-and-so' and a 'sincerely, you'. Once you put her name in an email, you're fucked. Once you sign yours, you're fucked. And really, who has access to your email account? Deniability has run screaming from the building at this point. You and your lack of courage are screwed.
What did we do before text messages? Send a page? Even better. 'Oops, I must have paged the wrong number. Sorry, Sweetpea.' Excellent deniability. Except no one has a pager anymore. Thanks to the text message, which is a pretty good second. Remember the key to all this lost courage is deniability. Because I assure you, whatever courage you once had will abdicate when one of two things happens, (1) she replies or (2) she doesn't reply. However, if you retain even a sliver of deniability, you don't need courage. All is not lost. You can deny everything. Every last damn little thing.
And that's what I generally fall back upon when my courage gets the better of me and acts on its own behalf. Of course, when that reply comes or doesn't come, courage is always in the outhouse or watching the last quarter of a football game and can't be reached. At that point, it's every man for himself. Deny. Deny. Deny. I promise it's the best way. Remember if you do anything, do it via text. TEXT. Then if you must, DENY.vI tell you what. Try it next time. If it doesn't work, I'll give you your money back.
Comments
Post a Comment