I had a conversation yesterday with the male version of myself. It was like talking to my dad or my brother, and quite a painful(ly funny) reflection. I don't know what the psychology of our personality is - if it is genetic, or the result of difficult circumstances coming out sideways. And if you have an opinion, I really don't want to hear it. I am pretty sure you have your own stuff to deal with anyhow and don't have time or energy to sort mine out too.A friend refers to it as Chronic Humor Syndrome (CHS) but I think I am going to rename it SAD (Smart Arse Disease). I can't stop. The sarcasm presses against the inside of my chest like a nasty air bubble until I open my mouth and let it out. Afterwards, I mentally perform corporal mortification of my tongue until about 2 seconds later when next the bubble rises in my throat. I am, therefore, an unwilling victim of SAD.
I don't get it, but am thankful that my husband loves me, despite my flaws, and actually enjoys my sense of humor. I know my brother's wife adores him (or at least claims to), and his sense of humor. And I feel fairly certain that the man I was trading barbs with yesterday, in some sort of sick tennis match of wit, has a wife that is head over heels with him too.
In a very rare moment of personal introspection, I can see that I'm slowly tumbling toward becoming exactly like the father I didn't appreciate or understand.
