If there were no bad people, there would be no good lawyers. -Charles Dickens

It was a humid rainy day when I sat in my Liberal Arts class and flipped open my Alltel Motorola to find the words, "It's not you, Kate. It's me." Not to sound overly critical but let's be real: chances are that it really wasn't me given the declassed miscreants that matriculated at Pasco-Hernando Community College when I attended there. I mean, majority of them were born and raised in the consistently brazen Pasco County. You do the math.

It's just that an excuse like that merits a shovel to the back of the head considering that we were merely sleepover buddies. Seriously, what a child. And this doesn't end with age because I find that more and more of my friends are hearing such nonsense from the men they're casually dating. People just use this excuse as if it were some sort of backwoods logical gospel. No.

Actually, to be brutally honest, I find this to be true in nearly every aspect of my life. People run around and use this as an exemplary reason for why they're miserable human beings. Grown men parade around, whining to their proverbial conquests about how they just aren't emotionally equipped. It isn't the girls, of course not. It's them. They just aren't ready/got over a really bad break-up/have been emotionally set back/wouldn't be good for anyone at this current juncture, blah blah blah. Some of them even believe themselves to be humble for owning it and taking all the blame. They're all so dapper, unintentionally emotionally unavailable and riddled with self doubt. (... paging Donald Draper...)

They must be kidding, right? I mean, surely this is some sort of sick joke meant to enlighten us and maybe win us some money on Candid Camera. (Wait, do you win money on Candid Camera? That may not be accurate considering my mom only let me watch America's Most Wanted and the Care Bears...)

Oh, you poor, sad multimillionaire with all the alleged pent up emotional rage! I feel so sorry for you.

Throw me a bone, would you...?

 

The bad news is that only the bad people reach the news because they are noisier. -Javier Bardem

It reminds me, to some extent, of that old Nietzsche quote. It's something about, if you don't give anything away, you can't feel anything either? (That may not be completely on point. It's been some time since my last Humanities class.) It's just that if you go through your whole life dodging people, never allowing yourself to get close, what is it that you're getting back? If you don't take three seconds to put the effort into someone, if you instead just take all the blame for all of your alleged inadequacies, what's your return profit? A long, lonely, guilt ridden life filled with people who never really knew you.

 

Because it's not you. It's me.

But the other end of it is, in break-ups of just general human interactions, how is this an acceptable justification for bad behavior? Realistically, it sounds to me like more of a cop out, a sort of get out of jail free card when you feel like jumping ship. A way to get people to feel sorry for you because you're seemingly damaged, rather than be angry at you for being a tool. It's just a ludicrous and poorly played phrase to cover up one's own unsavory behavior.

AND I DON'T LIKE IT, FRIENDS!

 

The ultimate tragedy is not the oppression and cruelty by the bad people but the silence over that by the good people. -Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

I have this friend who was sort of seeing this man who was a bouncer at her favorite bar. [Crazy's Advice: That was her first mistake, although purely unintentional. But big mistake. Big. HUGE. I mean, first of all, should it not work out, where the hell are you going to go? You're going to have to frequent a new bar, gradually make friends with new people and eventually get free drinks. Who in the hell has the time and money for that shit? Second, what if you want to hang out with another man besides said bouncer? AGAIN you're going to have to go someplace else. But don't ask me, I guess. I get agita over change...]

It turns from casual, sort of seeing to relatively serious rather quickly. Suddenly, the proverbial alcohol referee is making all these big, exciting plans for the two of them. All of his plans in the future are supposedly going to include her. He's asking her to request off for out of town day trips, weekend getaways, and all kinds of other blissful nonsense.

And then one day, he claims he's moving. To, I want to say, Colorado? Or maybe it was Georgia? Oh, who remembers? That's not really the point.

The point is that he starts building up this big dilemma, telling my friend that he has such strong feelings for her but he had really planned on moving prior to meeting her. It was something crucial and apparently he had promised a family member he would go. He started dropping hints that he wanted her to go, which in my opinion was more or less just to get her to feel sorry for him. To pity him and truly find him torn rather than to see him for what he was, for what he was really doing: playing her like the damn Mad Violinist.

I have proof of this, friends because when she actually agreed to move with him to God only knows what cold fucking state he was trying to vacate to, he immediately changed his tune.

Now things had changed dramatically. He wasn't ready for a serious relationship. He couldn't ask her to leave everything for his own selfish reasons. He couldn't foresee what the future held but she was perfect and he couldn't allow her to make such a drastic decision, such an enormous mistake. Too much hung in the balance. He wasn't good for anyone right now.

It wasn't her. It was him.

Just so we're clear, my homegirl is no Igor. She didn't sit home and cry. She was sad, or maybe more like disappointed, but she moved on. And let me tell you something, pretty girls like her don't stay lonely for long. Hello, Carmen Electra? Jennifer Love Hewitt?

I'm sure that all of you at home can guess what happened. As far as I know, he never moved. He did, however, strike up a Facebook official romance with another girl. And if it's FBO, it's got to be legit.

The truth is that this insolent brute wanted a serious relationship. He wanted a solid future. He just didn't want it with her. And instead of being forthcoming about all of this, he said, It's not you. It's me.

Oh, you poor, little misunderstood, troubled emotional wreck of a bouncer. How hard it must be to be caught in between a rock and a hard place. I can't even begin to imagine how terrible life must be for the young, handsome and privileged! (... paging Scarlett O'Hara...)

Moral of the Crazy: To be fair, I have an enormous amount of respect for the people who own their faults because everyone's got them. And it takes a real formidable, stand up individual to admit they've made mistakes. It's like my boss, Julie, used to always say, "I like you. You're real." Trust me, friends. That takes courage and it's commendable.

But there's a difference between being real and honest, and inventing tragedies to suit your needs. There's a difference between genuine flaws and pulling out your proverbial issues if it will score you points. Making up reasons or providing a multitude of excuses for why you've failed doesn't make you a good person. It doesn't make you real. And it doesn't relieve you of your faults, alleged or otherwise.

And the many stories you've told to cover your tracks just further aggravates the person you're attempting to mislead when the truth comes out. And as we all know, the truth always, always comes out. (Google is super handy in these times of trial. As if Facebook...) And honestly, those acts of deceit and fraudulent, incessant and intentional betrayal get superrrr old.

But you know what? You're right. It's not me. It's most certainly you. And your disgusting lies sicken me.

 

Good people do not need laws to tell them to act responsibly, while bad people find a way around the laws. -Plato