Resentment

My father emailed me a piece of language-related humour that I first heard half a lifetime ago, when I first started studying the language in question. My thought upon receiving this: "Does he seriously think I've never heard that before?"

That brought back a memory. I was a preschooler and had just been introduced to the concept of jokes. Like for the first time ever. Like at the "Why did the chicken cross the road?" level. So I'm gleefully telling basic, childish jokes to my parents (in my capacity as a child who had been introduced to the concept of joke-telling that very day), and my father says to me "Do you seriously think I've never heard these before?"

Of course, I didn't reply to my father's email that way. I just disregarded it for a time, and then replied with a bit of internet humour that vaguely intersects with his interests once I thought of one.

Then I realized that my father was my age when I was born, which means he was older than I am now on that day when I first learned to tell jokes.

Which means that he should damn well have developed the people skills not to reply to a joke that way!!!

It's not the fact that he shot down my childish jokes that's making me resentful, it's the fact that this (or, more accurately, the cumulative effect of a lifetime of this in my home life) led me to believe that's the normal way to respond to things. Which severely hindered my social life, as you might imagine!

I was into my 20s before I began developing the skills to approach social interactions with anything other than "Neener, neener, look how much smarter than you I am!" As you've probably noticed, those skills are still far from perfect. And they haven't become a habit yet. I have to make a deliberate, mindful effort to employ them, all the while fighting to supress the lifetime of instinct and habit that are still telling me to go for the neener neener.

Which is exactly what ended up happening when I made an ass of myself in front of Eddie. Giddy with endorphins and fangirl joy, I walked up to the greatest inspiration of my life, looked him in the eye, and neenered.

What should have been a joyful memory I can lie back and wallow in is now a humiliating memory that rears up and slaps me in the face at random times. My first (only?) chance to speak with my true, positive role model was ruined because of the influence of this negative role model I was unwillingly saddled with in my formative years.

And he doesn't even get the slap in the face of "Do you seriously think I've never heard that before?" because I want to be a better person than that.

Although I don't have it in me to be enough of a better person not to write this blog post.

And the tragic irony of it all is if I didn't have this resentment about being mis-socialized simmering in my brain, with this spectre of humiliation at making an ass of myself lurking around ready to rear up and slap me when I least expect it, I'd probably have the mental energy to write something that would make everyone - and Eddie too - notice and appreciate how smart I am.