Shock.

Shock.

If I had to define SHOCK without looking at a dictionary: 

1. noun, a sudden blow or happening

2. an emotional state of complete surprise/astonishment.  

3. one’s inability to believe something one knows to be true. 

4. an electrical attack

Or

5. a systemic response/means of protection against further physical or emotional harm.

I am in shock.

I cannot believe that I am capable of being so surprised by the behavior of a single person.  With wisdom (here defining wisdom as being in my 30s, and yes a debatable definition) I believed I would possess the proper intuitive and logical tools that would enable me to evaluate the individuals with whom I interact and therefore make careful decisions concerning those I allow into my mental and physical space.  God always laughs last, because he’s a funny guy (or ferret).  And no one is wise.

People are shocking.  They do shocking things.  Why?

Well, to answer my own not-so-rhetorical question, people do shocking things because: 

a. they are acting out/against their own personal character patterns as a means of expressing duress or confusion.

b. their behavior is not out of line with their character, it is the observer who has changed 

Or

c. they are retarded.

I will become transparent.  Bear with me.  For now, an anecdote.

There is a young woman in an office who is very amiable.  She is attractive and smart and easily engages with everyone.  It is hard to get to know this woman, for obvious reasons being so smart and attractive, but when you are one on one, it seems you are the only man in the room.  I mean in the world.  It seems you share a complete, unspoken language.  You slowly gather the courage to ask this woman out, thinking the answer will be a breathless yes, because you share so much together, so much unspoken good “ju-ju”.  The woman agrees cryptically, but flirtatiously.  She says something like “she was bound to go out with someone from the office one of these days”.  Not a rousing seal of approval, but certainly not a no, as she said it with smiles and that same wonderful “ju-ju” in the eyes.  And you’re syked, right, because she said she hasn’t yet gone out with anyone in the office.  Win.

You get ready for your date.  You have a sneaking suspicion inside of you that this very night you are to experience destiny: an event predetermined merely because it is so awesome, the waves of its greatness have been and will be felt throughout the ages, so you’ve got a timeline and gps on it because it reverberates in time and space (i.e. “destiny”).  You are leaving your house to pick her up.  You are on your way you are driving to her house with this great, reverberating feeling inside you.  Suddenly, you hear the phone ringing.  It’s her.  Could it be?  The awesome beginning so soon?  Perhaps she’s planned a surprise of some kind?  Giddiness!  You pick it up and she says over the phone: “I’m sorry, did you think we were going out?  I thought you were kidding.  I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t a misunderstanding.  You know, to avoid anything awkward”.  

Well too late, you are already outside her house.  With flowers.  With the phone in your hand.  The gong of reverberating destiny in your guts is now the sound of…of some kind of emotion…

1. You’re disappointed.  Obviously.  You wanted a date with this woman, a chance to be alone to show her how great you are for each other and it was cancelled.  You were given signals of her attraction.  This is not fair.  (ANGER)

2. She never actually said she wanted to go out with you.  The complete failure of the date and feeling of disappointment was created in your own head.  (EMBARRASSMENT)

3. She’s playing hard to get?  Now you know where she lives…she did tell you that… (GENERAL CONFUSION)

4. She has Borderline Personality Disorder.  (SHOCKING TRUTH)

Maybe you won’t get transparency here, but I guess my point is if someone has been asking you for a steak, and when you bring them the steak, they say “I wanted the fish”, I feel like punching someone in the mouth.  The problem with being a man of course is, in addition to being unable to punch a lady in the mouth, I want the steak, but prefer you ask for the fish so I can bring the steak when I want to.  If you just come right out asking for the steak it’s too much.  It’s too…well it doesn’t work, okay?  If that doesn’t make sense I can’t explain, because my description is terrible already.

Give me steak or give me death.  I’ll lick my wounds for a while, if they’re even wounds.  I honestly feel like if I could just be on tv for something—a small major award, nothing serious—and after being noted as the most interesting and engaging man of the 21^st century, utilize my acceptance speech to gently, deftly, almost imperceptibly drain the libido from the offending party (because squelching it forever sounds “too harsh”) while simultaneously emptying her fridge, living room, and bank account with the final gift of bestowing on her rank diarrhea for a few months—well I’d feel much peppier. 

Not that I could wish ill on anyone.  That’s for people with Borderline Personality Disorder.  Those cats are crazy.