Sometimes I disgust myself. I’m too much of a coward to tell people what I really think. Instead I stick on a fake smile and pretend to be affable, when I really want to drop the façade, moan, and tell someone to their face that they are “intellectual amoebas who are imperatively incapable of living in the real world”.
Today Mark has had some friends over; the remnant constituency of his old LGBT club from his sixth form days. One of these people spent most of the day complaining about everything, and after a bit it got on my nerves and I started to engage in my usual mental game of imagining things I would say to show him how wrong he was about everything.
Instead, I nodded and smiled, even when I and this utterly negative person went to the shops to buy sausages and leeks for the grill and more soft drinks. This despite the fact that I had to listen to this person banging on about every little detail’s unimaginable badness.
It’s been sunny so we decided to brave an attempt to grill outside, have some wine, and then merry conversation. Mark has slaved in the kitchen for most of the afternoon preparing for it, and this is why I and Mr Negativity went off to forage in the shops for extra things.
Now I’m just waiting for food, so I sneaked into the house, went upstairs to avoid Mr Negativity, and here I am writing this so that I would have some excuse to let my opinion have some air. Maybe having vented here, I can firm up my fake smile and my strength to continue to be polite and affable. Or maybe I’ll convince myself to give Mr Negativity a piece of my mind – although I seriously doubt it because I disgust myself sometime. I feel like I’m too much of a coward to actually say something.
But Stephen has promised to pop over in a bit, and that should allow me to talk to someone I actually want to talk to. Till then, I suspect I will just have to grin and bear it. If for no other reason than that Mark would be terribly cross with me if I started to offend the guests he’s invited over.