What Is That Supposed to Mean?
Harry: I mean nothing bothers you! You never get upset about anything!
Sally: Don’t be ridiculous!
Harry: What? You never get upset about Joe. I never see that back up on you. How is that possible? Don’t you experience any feelings of loss?
Sally: I don’t have to take this crap from you!
Harry: If you’re so over Joe, why aren’t you seeing anyone?
Sally: I see people!
Harry: See people, have you slept with one person since you broke up with Joe?
Sally: What the hell does that have to do with anything? That will prove that I’m over Joe, because I [screwed] somebody? Harry, you’re going to have to move back to New Jersey because you’ve slept with everybody in New York and I don’t see that turning Helen into a faint memory for you! Besides–I will make love to somebody when it is ‘making love’, not the way you do it like you’re out for revenge or something!
Harry: Are you finished now?
Harry: Can I say something?
Harry: I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
When it comes to bitterness and grudges, like Sally Albright, I like to turn the other way. I very much enjoy the forgiving-and-forgetting way of life. Not that I forget the past so much as I get over it. For some, resentment is a form of comfort. Some will even admit (proudly), “I know I’m holding it against him (or her), but I don’t know any other way to feel.” As if admitting it justifies the reasons for being a cynical bastard. I thought our character flaws were ones we tried to fix, not ignore and write off as “genetic traits” attained from childhood.
There is always room for improvement, I only need to be willing, open, and accepting. More simply, I only have to listen. Shut up. Pay attention.
I confess, I am stubborn. When I decide I want to do something (bad enough), there isn’t much anyone can say or do that will change my mind. However, despite acknowledging this about myself, I don’t want to use it as an excuse to be stupid. Just because you can’t convince me otherwise does not mean I haven’t considered every bit of advice you have provided me.
A long time ago, I decided that forgiving would be something I practiced. Of course, I’ve had my sour moments and said things I wish I hadn’t. “I don’t want you to talk to me for a very long time,” was probably my worst. I am certainly not perfect in my quest to forgive others, but at least I try. And I’m not saying it’s easy as “It’s okay,” and moving straight on from there. When I forgive someone, I continue to forgive them. Even for the same whatever event. I have to choose to forgive. I have to force myself to forgive. Sometimes, I think I’d feel better if I just stayed angry and wisht pure anguish upon my wrong-doers, but what kind of person would I be? Not a happy one, I’d say.
You know what turns me on? When someone is strong enough in their self to accept that they don’t need to have the last word, even when they know they’re right. Or wrong, for that matter. Man or woman, if you think twice and speak once (something a friend once told me), you will be the Wiser. But it takes balls to shut up and listen. Real balls.
And practice. It takes a lot of practice.