11 November 2003

A Near Concussed State of Flabbergast


(EDITOR'S NOTE: The following will make sense to few...or no one. What I am about to babble on about will be vague and contain no semblance of detail. The person mentioned in this entry will not be defined by name, sex, race, location, age, or any other distinguishing characteristic.)

I don't want to understate the personal value of what I'm about to explain...I am at a loss. People who know me know I do not often, if ever, go into a state where I cannot speak. It may have happened once in college, where myself and a few buddies watched a girl spontaneously strip for us and then masturbate on a coffee table at 4 AM. Maybe then. But this blows it away.

I have, in very few words, been had. The wool has been pulled very snugly over my eyes. I've been bamboozled, outwitted, and turned around. I have been Punk'd. And I don't know that I'll be able to accurately describe my state right now. I'm going to try to convey something to you all, but I don't know if I'll be successful or not.

It has just come to my attention that a person I considered very near and dear to me has been working me over all along. I'm not talking pretending to be someone they were not...I mean flat out deceiving me. It has been going on for years and if you had told me straight to my face at most any point in that time, I would have laughed at you. I almost didn't find out. I had a conversation with this person recently, and something interesting came up. By chance I mentioned this to a mutual acquaintance in a phone call tonight and the whole thing came tumbling down. In an instant--and I really mean that, an instant, I can't overstate that--the whole damn thing came crashing down. Remember in A Few God Men where Tom Cruise gets Jack Nicholson to admit he ordered the Code Red? Like that, like a movie, perfectly planned along, and when it happens all you can think is, "Wow, I should have seen that coming." It's not quite like finding out that it was your grandfather who shot Kennedy, but more like that your Grandmother was one of Hitler's mistresses. That kind of thing. Not only because it is someone I cared about, but someone I trusted. I don't trust many people. I'm now reminded in Big Red Letters why.

I'm making sure to be scant on specifics here, because even in my vegetatitve state of the moment, I know they matter little or nothing in the long run. I don't want to engender controversy or "out" someone. It just happens to be one of those things that you know you can't completely divulge but you have to tell someone, anyone. I'm pulling the literary equivalent of Geoff's Pet Peeve #1, the infamous, "I have to tell you something, but I can't. So I'm not going to."


There are a lot of thoughts circling my head, and even more emotions. The most prevalent is shock, honest to God shock, like walking into a room and having sex with a random girl only to find out it's your sister. Then there was disbelief, which was fleeting and is gone now, because I can see the whole picture clearly. There are trace amounts of anger, which I'm sure will multiply once I've processed everything. Lingering below the surface, almost hidden from my radar at the moment, is an impending sense of hurt, which I know will come crashing down on me in the very near future.

But most of all, when the smoke finally clears, the events of today will be humbling. Again, if you know me, you know this is a near impossible feat. It's not because this is a huge hit to my massive ego--though it certainly is. It's not because it detracts from my belief that I'm a highly intelligent person--it hasn't. It's not because it has shelved my faith in humanity--that happened a long time ago. It's because, with hindsight being 20/20 and all, I know deep down it's my fault.

I let it happen. I let it happen and, though subconsciously, I encouraged it.

That's the worst of it all. Above all else I value logic and reason, and in this case I threw them both out the window, apparently with the rest of my brain along for the ride. I'm disappointed in myself, though the game was certainly well-played by the other party. The thing is, I don't think this person will ever know that this is about them. I'm not even sure if they read this. That's not the point. I don't even know if I know what the point is, but I can tell you that if the victim weren't me, I'd be congratulating the afflicting party on a job well done. Perhaps I should fire myself as Coach? Find a new Offensive Coordinator? Hire a new Head of Scouting?

Nah. I think the only good thing that might come out of this for me is a better grip on the realities of human nature. Not an understanding, mind you, but a plausible explanation that leads to me not making this mistake again. I am going to remember this for everyone I meet from here on out. Matter of fact, in my desired career field, this occurrence could help me out monumentally. In the long run. Someday.

Maybe I'm still pretty great. This isn't life altering in the sense that it will keep me from being normal for an extended amount of time. But it's certainly going to shift my worldview in another direction.

In the words of one of my gurus, "The lesson, as always, is that I'm an idiot."