Remember the guy I met up with at an Upper West Side bar, a pairing that ended in disaster as I slipped out after what seemed like too many directions and putdowns? Well, I ran into him at Pieces the other night–we’re basically on the same dive circuit-and rather than throw acid in my face because of my petulant blog about the whole thing, the guy agreed to simply have a chat about it all –for two hours.
He said I was off base in calling him arrogant, but then he also muttered that I had pretty much nailed him. Whatever the case, he was being sweet and watching what he said–much more like the person I enjoyed in the first place–and similarly, he said I was acting more like the Michael he’d originally cottoned to, not the nervous freak who was so socially helpless in a sports bar. I explained that I had a head injury years ago and that’s partly why I’m so, um, unique–but even with half a brain, I stood my ground, saying that everything I’d put in the blog I’d also said to his face, and also that he’d hurt my feelings first, nyah nyah.
Oh, well. It feels better to talk away animosity than to stew in it as if it were a scorching footbath. Maybe we should try this approach with the Taliban leaders–or at least the AIG leaders.