Not That Girl

I recently met someone that ... Well... I instantly loathed.

This? I am not proud of.

I have friends ... Good friends... Who like this person. People I really respect and admire like this person. 

I do not like this person.

Not even a little.

Every day, I think, triumphantly, "Wooohooo, I haven't stabbed X yet," and then I feel bad, because failing to stab someone isn't really something you should be patting yourself on the back for, I don't think.

Here's the deal: X rubs me the wrong way ALL OF THE TIME. From handshake to conversation, this is a person who is all wrong feet in a pair of ugly shoes. No. Just no.

And yet.

This bothers me because I know without a doubt that there have been people in my life -- many, many people -- for whom I have been the irritant that X is to me. People who loathed me for no real reason but that I zig when they zag. People who wish I would sit the eff down and shut the eff up and for whom the very sound of my voice (written or spoken) is nails on a blackboard.

I get it.

Because I get it, my reaction -- my instant loathing -- of X shames me. I want to like him. I want to give him a chance, so I wrestle with myself and tell myself to try. Try hard. Make an effort. Make it for X's sake, but also make it for your own, I tell myself. Make an effort.

I'm trying.

That's something, right?