Insulted? Maybe not.
Years ago I went to a party and there was a guy there I had not seen in years.
He was surprised to see me.
Because six months earlier there had been a murder in my town, and the poor young murder victim bore the same last name as mine.
And this distant friend exclaimed, “Oh my God! I was sure that murdered girl was you!”
As in, “Although we have seen each other hundreds of times, I had forgotten your first name” sure?
Or as in, “I wasn’t surprised that you would be murdered, since we’ve all wanted to kill you at one time or another” sure?
Either way, I was pretty insulted.
But now, more than 40 years later, I don’t think so.
Not that it has taken me 40 years to get over it… no way…
Just that if that happened today, I would see it in a totally different light.
Because I don’t get insulted much anymore.
Because I am the arbiter of what is insulting.
And hardly anything is.
Like when someone told me they hated a certain movie, but that it was the “kind of thing I would like.” Well, now I just think they must mean sweet, simple and touching. Yes, I am like that.
Like when someone commented that I wore an awful lot of makeup. Well, now I just think, they mean that my makeup looks so perfect I look like I had it done by an expert. Yes, I am that good at it.
Like when someone said my dog runs around like a maniac. Well, now I just think that they think my dog is so energetic and fun-loving. Yes, I have raised a happy dog.
Like when someone told me I needed to work on my management skills. Well, now I just think that it’s not in my nature to criticize another person’s work. Yes, I am kind like that.
Like when someone came to dinner and brought her own food because my cooking is not up to her standards. Well, now I just think how much money I just saved because she was generous enough to bring the main course. Yes, I am grateful like that.
Like when someone said that I had a stupid laugh. Well, now I just think that I laugh like a nut all the time because so much in life is so nutty. Yes, I am happy like that.
Like when someone wrote a review on Amazon and said my first book was predictable, unreadable and a complete waste of time. Well, now I just think…
Yes, because I am sensitive like that.