Stoop. Now there’s a
word. Never stoop to someone’s level.
The level bit conveys quite a lot. Clearly there’s a hierarchy of behaviour and,
if my grandmother had any say in the matter, we would always being aiming for
the top. But really it’s the word stoop
that makes the point. It seems to capture not only the lowering or sinking of
standards, but the actual slimy poisonous descent – that miserable journey into
the dark morality-free zone. Oooh, can I come too?
In all honesty, I’m
more of the goody-good variety. I take the not stooping very seriously. I’m one
of those types who attempts to take
claiming the high moral ground to new and ever higher places. The good
old-fashioned guilt-trip is my weapon of choice. The problem is that most of
the time it doesn’t bloody work. Which leads me to wonder whether it’s actually
more satisfying doing the wrong thing. You know, maybe just once… Although let’s
be clear. I’m not talking about bitch-faced bullying. Rather, the focus is being
on the receiving end of extensive and seemingly unrelenting crap and politely
wondering if turning the other cheek just isn’t working.
Although one problem
is that while I strive to be all things good, I’m actually not. I’ve been
involved in terrible, vicious and inappropriate incidences of doing the wrong
thing. Unfortunately, I usually fail to notice. I’m brilliant at causing
offence, it’s just that I don’t mean to. So as a direct consequence, I fail to
enjoy the delicious moment… Take being a
step-mother for example, everything you do is construed as evil simply by
definition. We’ve all read the fairy tales; we know how it goes. But I’m
usually surprised that what I’ve said or done has been taken badly, and then I’m
left feeling perplexed because I genuinely believed being evil would be more
fun. Clearly I’m doing it wrong. I need to get good at being bad.
Betrayal is that
curious phenomenon that is defined not just by the actions themselves, but the
level of two-facedness involved. Betrayal involves a breach of trust. However,
because we inherently trust some people more than others, sometimes it’s the
lesser crimes that cause the greatest distress. And while sometimes betrayal is
an act of revenge, at other times the initial act is unprovoked. Does the act
of original betrayal feel good? Or does betrayal-revenge feel better? All
things told, I feel I’m doing neither of these things right.
So what are some acts
of betrayal for us to dwell on? Not in a plotting and scheming manner (cough).
Just out of neutral and vague interest… There are the classic examples of spies
during wartime, people having affairs and others generally going against how
you agreed to raise the children… There
are people who get married only to sneakily kill their partner for the
insurance money and the classic examples of betraying others to
gain power. There are even cases of people pretending to be someone they’re not. Take the curious court case in England at the moment of the woman taking another woman to court for pretending to be an Asian man tricking her into have sex. ….ok… so maybe we should move on to murder.
How would I do it? I
have never ever considered this question. But you know, now that you ask… Given
the number of Agatha Christies I’ve read, I should be an arsenic in the tea
type. Although I’d probably get horribly confused about which cup and accidentally
drink it myself. In all honesty, I’m probably more of a crimes of passion type.
Although I’m not really sure that brutal murder is my thing. Maybe it depends
on the day… The freaky thing is that as there are loads of unsolved murders we’ve
probably all met a murderer or two in our lifetimes. Maybe it’s that smug git
at work who is always smiling – that’d be why…
Although maybe we
should be cautious, because betrayal can backfire and leave you a paranoid
unhappy wreck like that dude in that Shakespearean play we all had to study at
school. But what if the problem was that he was talked into it and then subsequently
felt awful. What if it was your own idea? Would you still feel bad? Sadly, I
think the closest I will get to murder and betrayal is just simply telling
someone what I think of them. But even that can be fraught.
The imagined idea of telling
someone what you really think is so far removed from reality as to exist in an entirely different dimension. The ideal goes something like this: You swish in
there looking fabulous. You stand tall and feel proud. You give the best darn
speech in the history of fabulous “up yours” speeches. It’s witty and
insightful with just the perfect amount of put downs (i.e. loads). You finish on
a triumphant note while your opponent stands there, shoulders slumped obviously
feeling shamed by their odious actions - cue you swanning off with glamour and
style.
But part of you knows
that the moment you do let rip you’re only going to look like a mad baboon
who’s lost the plot. You’ll screech and say really silly things and probably even
insult yourself “I know I am but what are you?... damn it!….”. And to top it
all off as you turn to leave, imagining that great grand gesture, you’ll bloody
trip over something and hurt yourself.
Even if you do manage
to tell someone some home truths, it can be curiously unsatisfying, especially
if faced with an unrepentant and disinterested foe. So all things considered, maybe I’ll just take
up running. It will be a great way to work off angsty-energy and anger (and hey,
who knows, could come in handy for that quick getaway…).
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