I think I may have a punchable face.
I can’t explain what makes it so punchable, exactly. I have a wicked case of RBF that is often misunderstood. Sometimes I get a little too into hockey fights and probably deserve a good punch in the face just to even things out. Maybe my freckles spell out “Punch Me,” but I never noticed because I always see them backwards in the mirror.
I’m not sure what it is, but lately it seems like a lot of people want to punch me. This surprises me because I’ve always thought of myself as the kind of person who should not get punched. In fact, I go out of my way to avoid ever giving anyone the impression that I ought to be punched.
And yet all of the sudden, there seem to be quite a few people out there who want to fight with me. I’m struggling to find any reasonable explanation besides my inherently punchable nature.
Explanations I’ve Considered
- I’m putting bad energy into the universe and it’s coming back to me, according to Oprah.
- Misdeeds from a past life are finally catching up to me.
- I said a bunch of really insulting things to a lot of people recently and then hit my head, losing all memory of my actions.
- My parents were not joking when they said I needed an attitude adjustment as a teenager, and this is life’s way of telling me.
- I accidentally signed up for a reality show.
- I truly have wronged these people in some way, and because I am occasionally oblivious and often self-absorbed, I failed to notice and made everything worse.
I think we can all agree that every explanation on that list, #6 in particular, is completely absurd and that my very punchable face is clearly the root of all of this recent conflict.
Like many humans, I hate conflict. Oh, I talk a big game. I’m an opinionated gal and whenever I think I’m right about something I make sure everybody knows it. In my head, I’m a total badass. In my head, I’m like To Kill a Mockingbird-era Atticus Finch in an argument.
How Fights Work in My Head
- You start an argument with me.
- Pow! I hit you with an intellectually sound argument demonstrating that you are wrong.
- Pow! I hit you again with a humble but poignant lesson in morality.
- Pow! I give you a little bit of wisdom about growing up in rural Alabama.
- Pow! I shoot a rabid dog in the street because — although I have compassion for animals and would never, ever kill a mockingbird — I’m not afraid to do what needs to be done while reminding everyone that I have the skills to back all of this up.
That’s not how reality works, though. In reality, I am more like a wet noodle with limp, noodley arms and a doughy, punchable face.
How Fights Work in Real Life
- You start an argument with me.
- I spend three days avoiding eye contact with you.
- I spend three more days pretending that you are Jimmy Stewart in It’s a Wonderful Life and you were never even born.
- I whine to everyone but you about the argument.
- I fantasize about how nice it must be to be a dictator and force everyone who disagrees with you to go work in a mine forever.
- I feel bad about that fantasy because dictators are bad, bad people and I don’t really want you to go work in a mine forever. Mostly.
- Instead of dealing with the problem, I burn the bridge. But not in an honest, “Hey, I’m burning this bridge now!” kind of way. In a sneaky, blow-up-the-bridge-at-night-and-then-pretend-I-was-nowhere-near-the-bridge-and-convince-you-that-you-must-have-burned-it-yourself-I-can’t-believe-you-don’t-remember-doing-that kind of way.
It’s all very healthy and brave of me. I don’t know why I’m like this. I suspect it has a lot to do with having noodle arms, and hating emotions, and wanting to be liked by everyone all the time.
What I do know is that it’s time to grow up, get over myself, and repair these relationships instead of abandoning them because I’m a chicken. It’s just that the conflict-avoidant part of me is not on board with this plan and now I’m fighting with myself.
It’s getting really bad, too. I haven’t talked to me in nearly a week.