A very long time ago someone said to me “I don’t love you and I never will.” Obviously he had a problem. Probably some chemical imbalance or something. Whatever his problem was it wasn’t with telling the truth. “I don’t love you and I never will.” I think of it as the pox quote.
Who could not love me? I’m smart, I’m nice, small children almost never run screaming from the room when I walk in., I usually smell nice. All in all I’m quite tolerable. I’m really easy to get along with. I would venture to say that if they are willing to do it my way, almost anyone can get along with me.
It’s not that I’m indiscriminate. I don’t like everyone. I just want everyone to like me. And they shouldn’t just like me a little bit, either. They should like me a whole lot. I should be one of everyone’s top 10 people. Maybe top 6. People should be required to love me. It should be automatic for everyone to lo-oo-ove me. Especially people who are inclined not to.
I know that no body is loved by everyone. But come on. . . . we’re talking about me here. I know I don’t deserve it, but I need it. Do you hear me? I ne-ee-ed it. And I will do cartwheels on a tin roof in the rain if I think it has a chance of making someone who isn’t inclined to do so, love me. I have the scars to prove it.
That’s it. Air, water, food, the love of everyone I meet.
And that’s tough because pissing people off is intrinsic to my job. And I’m not really, nice. I just said that to make you like me. Truth be told, when I’ve been out gardening all afternoon, I don’t even smell nice, so there.
But remember when you had chicken pox and your whole body itched at once and you’d do just about anything to get rid of it, but scratching didn’t work? That’s sort of what it’s like when I remember the pox quote.