Ever know someone who seemed perfectly nice, well mannered, polite, unobjectionable looking, totally unremarkable in almost every way; a person that all your friends and colleagues either liked or (maddeningly) adored - and who you could not fucking stand? Yes?
To add to your frustrations, this person - let's call them Jerry - is so evenly appreciated across all segments of the population,poor little you can't find a soul to commiserate with. Not a one. Conversations start with promise, then wither and die on the vine, like so:
You: "Hey, do you know Jerry?"
Other Party in Imaginary Conversation: "Who?"
You: "You know...Jerry?"
Other Party in Imaginary Conversation: "Oh. Yes."
You (sensing a possible twinge of disgust - an opportunity?): "I...don't really like Jerry as much as everyone else does."
Other Party in Imaginary Conversation: "Really? Neither do I. I - "
You (excited, ecstatic, it's Christmas in July): "REALLY???? Yay! I fucking hate Jerry! I hate his smarmy face, I hate his entitled demeanor, I hate his shallow soul, I hate his creepy sense of entitlement resting on the knowledge that he will be critically and commercially lauded because Cameron Crowe wrote every word that comes out of his date-rapey mouth and directed every drippy, saccharine moment in which he speaks. I hate his complete and total lack of actual spiritual and moral development. I hate that no one else notices that he is the same GAPING ASSHOLE from the first second we meet him until the moment we walk away. I hate that I am the only person walking away in disgust. I hate that Jerry, that caustic prick, takes a series of connected moments of self-entitlement and overblown egotistical grandstanding and spins them into actual character development. I hate that racist, sexist dickhole, and I hate the world that he lives in and the air that he breathes, and he makes me believe in the concept of Hell and that Satan walks among us in human guise."
Other Party in Imaginary Conversation: "I was going to say I adore Jerry."
You (deflated, foiled again, ego bruised from once again misinterpreting the tone of another party in a conversation): "Oh."
Other Party in Imaginary Conversation: "Seriously? You hate Jerry Maguire? Everybody loves Jerry Maguire. It was like, the best movie of the mid-90's."
You (red-faced, moving towards scarlet; all shame and embarrassment swallowed by your boiling rage): "The widespread success of the film Jerry Maguire was the very first sign of the Apocalypse."
Other Party in Imaginary Conversation: Remains silent. Turns and walks away. Avoids you around the water cooler and at all future social gatherings. Whispers conspiratorially with those gathered near them, glancing towards you when they think you aren't looking: "she hates Jerry."
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