April 22, 2008 | Filed under: Boys Are Dumb, I Write About My Feelings

I like to be right. And I like to win.

(I know, this revelation shocks you.)

I want to tell him he’s wrong, wrong, wrong, point out all the ways in which he’s wrong, all the places where things could have gone differently, if we had but made other choices, all the ways in which what did happen was a direct result of the choices we, individually, made. And I desperately want to correct the assertions — explicit and implicit — from that last conversation and his subsequent e-mail. (Which is still unresponded-to, I might add.) Heck, I’d probably even tell him that he’s right about a few things, though it’s clear he doesn’t understand why those things are they way they are.

But I won’t. Because in this scenario, winning is defined entirely by my ability to not speak to him. And even more than being right, I like to win.

1. Karen says:
   

   Every minute you ignore him is a victory in its own right. Good for you!

   April 23rd, 2008 at 9:39 am
2. Boy says:
   

   This boy does suck a lot.

   June 7th, 2008 at 2:15 am