Destination frustration

When I post personal stuff here, I try not to splash around too much in the shallow end. That is, I try to make it squarely about me, taking care to avoid bitching about others or even mentioning them, however obliquely. Others, however, generally don’t play that way, so I’m going to allow myself to pee in the pool without caring whether anyone notices.

Imagine you’re involved in an online exchange that’s bound to become a fight. In your first contribution to the conversation (one initiated by someone who has explicitly clamored for permanent mutual silence), you write, in part:

Then yesterday I rejoin Facebook

Much pointless and too-familiar clamor ensues, leading to this tidbit from your interlocutor:

I had no idea you were on facebook until yesterday.

Yes, a facepalm moment. And in the meantime, I’m repeatedly told how mean I am. This person could not linguistically survive if the word “hate” and its derivatives did not exist:

You bombard me with hateful message…I should have left it with you hating me…I didn’t get that your hate ran so deep.

I’ve said many an unkind word to this person, to be sure, many of them notoriously regrettable. And I’ve behaved in some tragically stupid ways and have been bailed out by the kindness and generosity that are this person’s fundamental hallmarks. But the idea that hatred is involved is absurd to the point of delusion. My compound question, “If you think I hate you, why keep contacting me? And if I hate you, why do I bother engaging you?” naturally went unanswered, given the problems they posed to the person’s committed mindset. (This whole mess, by the way, started after a week-long period of mutual and theoretically permanent silence and involved, in sequence, a phone call that went unanswered, two texts requesting a chat that garnered no response, and finally an e-mail to which I reluctantly replied. Modern technology is nothing if not a vehicle for allowing people to be relentless from a great distance.)

This time-waster of a blathering session (and I dubiously credit myself without serving up a single insult) ended with the other person getting in a few final digs and storming off in a virtual huff, something I would have bet my life on transpiring in advance. I truly hope that this time, our presumed communications moratorium stretches out much, much further than has occurred to date.

If all of this seems pointless, it is. But I wanted to know how it feels to post in this fashion, since I’ve been the unnamed subject of the same treatment on this person’s own blog at least a dozen times. It doesn’t feel good at all. But I am tired of the fucking bullshit and being tarred with labels that don’t fit. I’ve created enough real chaos and damage in my life without being called a hater and more. But more than anything else, I have a real problem with logical flailing, and having questions like those I noted above go unanswered in favor of ever more whining and accusations is a prime example of such flailing.

One thought on “Destination frustration”

  1. “Modern technology is nothing if not a vehicle for allowing people to be relentless from a great distance.”

    That’s just fabulous.

Comments are closed.