Feeling Strange

I've been feeling a little off since my last post about the emotional affair. It was so many years ago it shouldn’t matter, but it does. I know how alone I felt when going through it, so regardless of the difficulty it's important, as a writer, for me to share some of my experience—a little message in a bottle on a cyber sea. 

Still, I can hear my ex saying, "Why did you tell people about that? I don't want people to know about that." 

To which I would reply, "But you said there was nothing wrong with it and that it was my problem. So why would you care if anyone knew?" 

To which there would be no reply. 

Yes, we did have a similar conversation about another incident with another man and that's where I'm getting it from.

We all make mistakes and do things we would rather not have other people know about. That's normal. And when we do those things we admit our mistake and turn to our friends and say, "Don't say anything." And if it's a serious matter, and they're good friends, it will remain in confidence. If it's just something that is horrendously embarrassing, well, then you’re screwed. The better the friend, and the more embarrassing the incident, the faster the story will make the rounds. It keeps us humble. 

I also tend to agree with what John Travolta's character, Vincent, said to Samuel L. Jackson's character, Jules, in Pulp Fiction, "Jules, did you ever hear the philosophy that once a man admits that he's wrong that he is immediately forgiven for all wrong doings?"

Assuming, of course, that the admission is sincere and the penance is made. But that doesn't apply here, since, there was no admission of wrong doing. 

So, I think of what Anne Lamott said in her brilliant book on writing, Bird by Bird, "You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better."


I try to find the courage to do just that.