R-E-S-P-E-C-T and what it means to me

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Turns out, what respect means to me is not as important as what it means to everyone else. And realizing that is maybe the closest I’ll get to defining it in a way I can act upon.

I went to the bank today to deposit a cheque and the guy behind the counter began telling me how the Canadian government is going to eliminate cheques as of September 1st 2016 so I should consider switching to direct deposit (more on THAT riveting tale another time) But anyway so I’m feeling pretty bubbly, I’d stayed up late the night before writing and planning projects and my brain was on fire with possibility and roses. I’d also had a couple chick-flicky movies on in the background so my independent woman swag was ON. So I didn’t think much of it when he casually asked my plans for the day as he ran the cheque through the little machine and watched my money increase on his computer screen. I mentioned I was going to work and “ugh, night shifts, amiright?” and when he asked what I did for work I said I work at a newspaper (not exactly true, but it’s the best way to make people understand right away what my job is like.) Apparently he has a buddy who’s a  freelance journalist. OMG no WAY, I’m totally trying to do the same thing and by the way I blog and am working on a project or two to increase my journalism skills. Apparently this guy and his buddy are fans of VICE news, I’M SUCH a fan of VICE news… AND The Young Turks? Me too! Like omg, crazy riigh? Here’s the URL to my blog. Aren’t I like SO COOL?

Just a conversation and a bit of social, possible business networking.

No harm, no foul… right?

Eh, not so much.

This is gonna make my man sound not so awesome to some people, but hold your judgement.

I love him, he’s a smart, progressive thinking guy who just happens to have a cynical bent. Part of the reason I love him so much is that he cuts through bullshit that my massive ego and calls me on my (almost constant) lapses in logic. And basically it boils down to he doesn’t want me to be passing out my info to random dudes. And he’s not wrong. This blog links directly to my facebook and twitter pages.

A lot of people would argue (as I did not have time to because I had to get to work) that I’m a modern woman living in the age of social media. It’s not like my facebook page is brimming with bikini pics, and I never use the computer at home other than for news, youtube and putlocker. Also, those of you who know me, know that I’m certainly no phone zombie. So it’s not like I’m creating relationships that take anything away from what we have, right? Kinda.

I’m kind of glad we haven’t had the opportunity to fight it out yet. As I was fuming and pouting on the bus ride to work, I had some time to think about it. Because I might be coming around to his way of thinking. A little.

Here’s what some distance has made me think about the interaction that makes me think I can understand why it wasn’t really a great one to die on the hill of feminism on.

  1. I don’t actually give a shit about this dude. Sorry if you’re reading this.
  2. I doubt this is really going to lead to finding someone to help me with my multiple half-baked projects.
  3. I probably don’t even want or need help because in the past I’ve been very let down when I rely on other people or even just try to have them contribute.
  4. No one likes hearing their significant other gave out personal info to someone they just met.
  5. I’ve very much proven myself to not be an awesome judge of character when it comes to meeting people in this town. I could be kidnapped this time tomorrow. But I thought he was an ok person.
  6. I wouldn’t have spoken to that guy in any context other than my banking business if my guy was there. I don’t think. Maybe, but unlikely. Who can say.
  7. I really do not give a shit about this dude.

I mention that point first and last because the more I play the scenario in my head, the more I’m realizing that the only reason the interaction made me so happy at the time is because I was promoting myself. And someone was finally fucking listening. And it felt NICE. Ok? I was enjoying some attention. I told the guy I had a boyfriend I’d been living with for years and he was STILL INTERESTED IN MY OPINION ON NEWS COVERAGE. That doesn’t happen. But I let that cloud my judgement. Sure I was sweaty and pimply with no makeup and dark under-eye circles from staying up late but let’s face it. It’s still likely this dude was only talking to me at all because he was hitting on me. On some level. Whether either of us was conscious of it or not, that’s pretty much the only reason to take that long to process a damn cheque.

And indulging in that kind of interaction, not thinking logically and going with your ego is just not respectful to anyone you are in a committed relationship with. Especially one who has been my absolute cheerleader when it comes to going out with my girl friends and family and workmates.

I’m sorry.



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