Talking about Malcolm

Yeah, I am back. Being me right now is like being Christian Slater in Pump Up The Volume... trying to sign off the air on his basement pirate radio station but finding that he has so much more to say that he just has to key that microphone one more time, and then one more time after that.

So, here I am.

I was going to title this one, "The Eggshell People," but I didn't. Eggshell people are those people I've always hated to be around, those people around whom you have to second guess every action in advance, rehearse every word, guard every reaction, hide and filter almost every emotion.

You know the people... you say something, and they have to "gently correct" you. They nudge you toward politically-correct, vague, touchy-feely stuff that is neither satisfying nor complete. They feel a need to "share their feelings" rather than just say what the hell they think. They save things up for "a more appropriate time to discuss them," which is rarely a time you can ever even recall the context, let alone the substance, of the offending interaction. They spend more time worrying about what "they" -- the big, nameless, out-there-they -- think than they spend thinking about sex.

In short, people around whom you're perpetually walking on eggshells.

I am tired of the Eggshell People, and am going about removing the few remaining ones from my life.

Denise was one, and my last interaction with her confirmed it. I won't go into detail, but when someone who is, or was, your "friend" seems to view as faults all the things about yourself you've always seen as strengths, there's a fatal disconnect that cannot be remedied. You can hear the shells getting crushed by the dozen.

I adore tough, sensible women. Mary is one. Marie is one. Scarce can I say it, but in her own way, Heather was one. Niki is one.

My ex-wife was an Eggshell Person. Denise is one. Keary was one. I've met others through dating online, and been able to spot them pretty readily. It's a control thing, really... the more that they can get you to doubt yourself, the more in-control they perceive themselves to be, and so, self-assurance must be portrayed as rudeness, arrogance, or whatever other handy negative they happen to have.

Well, fuckit. I AM self-assured. I'm good at what I do, proud of my opinions, aware of (but not owned by) my faults, and revel in my vices when they don't hurt others.

You touchy-feely, bland, politically-correct "sharing is caring" dildos can bite my big honker.

Go scatter eggshells on someone else's mental floor. I just bought me a big-ass vacuum, thanks.