Sunday 27 January 2013

Wanted: Sodium Pentothal or Sodium Amytal

In case you don't know what sodium pentothal and sodium amytal are, they're what's commonly called truth serum. Their use isn't quite as successful as the movies would suggest, but hey, at least they loosen up a person's inhibitions and get them yammering. I'm just not sure if I need to inject myself or someone else.

Don't you just hate when someone says something to you that you think means something, but you're not entirely sure, because you don't know the context they're placing it in? I guess that's a complicated way of saying you want to ask, "What are you trying to say to me?" I find myself in this unenviable position at the moment, and it'll probably drive me crazy, making it impossible to sleep.

Luckily I have a place to vent in lieu of said sleep, because maybe the crazy-making will be less damaging that way. Why is it that someone who writes constantly should find herself incapable of asking a simple question? Well, it's the implications, of course. You see, if she cares enough to ask, it means she cares, which opens her up to potential humiliation and degradation in front of a person whose opinion actually matters.

People are terrified of opening themselves up, and it's not just me. We're far more vulnerable than we like to admit. I'm usually really tough with this kind of thing, just blurting stuff out, but sometimes things matter more than usual. In my younger years, when I was afraid of openness more than I am these days, alcohol was the lubricator of choice - get your mind out of the gutter. I refer to a social lubricant, not something that causes you to find yourself afflicted with a social disease! Not to mention burns in weird places.

This time I'm totally out of practice with the social arts. Five years of singlehood will do that to you. Now it matters, and I have no 'out' to cut the inhibitions. By not taking a risk, though, there's a bigger risk. A moment passes, confusion makes people pass each other by, and then the chance could be gone. I mean, if opportunity comes knocking and you've got your headphones on, you're gonna be screwed.

The original risk is the complete loss of another person in your life should the whole thing just be a coincidence and a stupid misunderstanding. Now, admittedly, I'm perfectly capable of flipping the switch and letting go of a fantasy. With my personal history, you tend to learn that handy trick when you're young. This skill helps to restore the balance should such an upset occur. Sure, "It's already out there," you might say, but I've been on the other end of it and was able to remain friends with people who held some delusions about me that I had to disabuse them of.

The question is simple: Do you risk looking like an idiot, or do you risk losing out on the potential rewards? It feels a bit like being a game show contestant. You know what you've already won, but now you're being asked to risk it all for what's behind curtain number three. The rewards of a game show don't really amount to much in comparison, however, and you can just shrug your shoulders and yell for them to open the curtain. If it turns out to be a membership to the local bridge club you're disappointed, but not suffering potential hurt, unless of course your spouse kicks you in the ass after the show for throwing it all away.

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