Some Sherlock Holmes Shit

Earlier this week I was on the bus on the way to work. As they tend to do, people got on the bus and I glanced up from my phone long enough to ensure that no very old, very young, or otherwise challenged people were boarding. Not because I wanted to make fun of them (I rarely do that unless I'm in a very bad mood...) but because I wanted to be a mensch and give up my seat for someone who might need it more than I do.

A second advantage of doing the quick new passenger scan is that I have an opportunity to spot attractive women. (For some reason, as I typed that, I envisioned myself with my hands poised under a barbell as a hot chick lifts weights.)

Every woman, of course, is beautiful in her own way. They are all founts of strength and life-bringing awesomeness that have provided light and stability to every corner of the known universe.

Some women are more beautiful than other women, though, when it comes to me being interested when they get onto the bus.

My admiration of these women, when they magically appear from the sidewalk, doesn't go anywhere. I am loathe to talk to strangers generally, and I believe that the last thing a person wants on the bus is for me to be chatting her up. Maybe I'll smile at them but generally I just bury my nose back into my phone. I'm still marginally happier knowing that there is a cute girl in my vicinity, in any event.

As I was saying, earlier this week I was on the bus on the way to work. On the ride there was no cause for me to give up my seat (yes!) and an attractive woman sat next to me (yes!). After giving her a quick (but hopefully subtle) once-over, I looked back at my phone. Facebook occupied my time, and I noticed, especially, a pic of my friend GG in her new work outfit. As I tend to do, I dropped her a quick chat letting her know that she looked great and that I hope her new job was going well.

After a short time and a few stops, I glanced up from my phone and looked at her phone. I have good eyesight and am curious, and unless I did something stupid like get caught and/or blog about doing so, who would ever know how invasive I was being?

She was looking at Facebook, as well, my eyes spied. And as she scrolled down, what did I see? I saw the same pic of GG in her feed.

Part of me was really close to poking her on the shoulder and asking her how she knew GG. But the rest of me was chastising that dumbass part, because, "Hey! I was just visually eavesdropping on you and I noticed we have a friend in common!" is not the best first impression a guy can make... partly because "visually eavesdropping" is an awkward phrase, but also because, you know. It's weird.

So I didn't talk to her. I looked back at my phone and, after I departed the bus and was walking to work, GG chatted me back. She thanked me for my compliment and general well-wishings, and I told her about what had just happened.

What happened next was one of the most startling chats I've had in a while. Here it is, as it happened, with only the names changed:

GG: Hahahha, I wonder who is was.
GG: That's funny!!

Me: I wonder, too... she's hot!
Me: haha
Me: dark brown hair. Nice chest. Pretty eyes
Me: white

GG: Brunette? 

Me: that's not a lot to go off of, I know 

GG: Her name is [redacted]. 

Me: :)
Me: I guess it IS a lot to go off of! haha

She then sent me a picture. And it was the correct person. I still am not quite sure how she did it so quickly and accurately... it was some Sherlock Holmes shit.

Hard/Not Hard for Me to Say Sorry/Not Sorry

I often wonder if I apologize too much, too little, or just enough.

Maybe it's that I've been watching a ton of Curb Your Enthusiasm, where Larry David spends about a third of every episode apologizing, but "I'm sorry" has been on my mind a lot. It is a phrase, along with a few others ("I love you", "Can I get a pitcher of water?") that I spend a lot of time considering the meaning and impact of.

In the interests of getting this out of my head and of hopefully getting into the habit of writing more, I'm going to lay out some different semi-apologies that I have done, continue to do, and refuse to do.

The Faux Pas-logy

Towards the end of my previous life, as my marriage was ending, I relied on the most dreadful of all apologies.

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

I wasn't saying it to be hurtful, but while it was an accurate representation of how I felt, I think it hurt. Or at least irked. The things I was doing were not something that I felt I should apologize for, and it was (understandably) perceived by the recipient as dismissive of her feelings. I knew this as I was saying it, but I did it anyway. Why? I don't know why I did it then... maybe it was because I felt a placating apology would be insincere and it's that I was willing to offer (some modicum of) sympathy, but I was not accepting responsibility.

I also think that I was afraid of feeling less powerful or something... in any case, I don't say, or hint at, this phrase these days.

In the Line of Duty

Part of my job is to make people happy. I make them happiest when I deliver on-time and on-budget, but short of that I try to make expensive and/or late things less painful to deal with. And that, my friends (and/or enemies... whomever is reading this) involves a lot of apologies. I never want to blame a coworker or a boss or the client themselves, so I fall on the sword a fair bit: I wasn't clear, I overestimated, I underestimated, I let something fall through the cracks, I dropped the ball, I misinterpreted, I was confused... so many things that I did to prevent success. So many things that I could do--and will do!--better. So many things. I say these things entirely sincerely in order to diffuse situations and to get past the frustration of failure and lay out solutions and re-set expectations.

I've thought about why I do this so easily and (I think) effectively at work but I was unwilling or unable to do it at the end of my marriage. I've determined two things:

1. It's just work. Nobody is gonna die. I have been fired. I have quit. I have loved clients and disliked them. I have overdelivered with no praise and been chastised for doing what was asked of me--and the opposites of both of those. I like my work and I want to do it well, but ... it's just work. I don't define myself by my occupation in the same way I think I did with my marriage back in the day.
2. You always find something in the last place you look. "I'm sorry you feel that way" is not how I apologized to my ex when we first started dating. Or five years after we were together. Or even ten years after we were together. It was only towards the end, and I suspect it was a manifestation of my own unhappiness that I was being stubborn (and maybe of her unhappiness that she was expecting me to apologize for things she never had before?).

As it turns out, occupational apologies are good for business and don't hurt my soul. So I'll keep doing them, even as I work to reduce the number of times I have to do so.

In a Line

My only super power is my ability to be the weak link in a line of people... there can be ten or fifty people standing in a line, and if there is perpendicular foot traffic, folks will locate me and target me as the person who will stand aside as they break through.

On the bus, I am consistently (unintentionally, presumably) battered by dumbasses who have terrible spatial awareness vis-à-vis.

And on a dancefloor, when I am drunk enough to venture onto one, I usually spend more time dancing out of the way of being touched by other dancers than I do, you know, dancing. 

What do I say in all of these situations? "I'm sorry." I do it automatically... mechanically and without thought.

Why do I say it? Again, I have thought about it. I think there are two main reasons, and it's usually a mix of these two things rather than a singular explanation.

1. I am genuinely sorry for causing you distress. I know you need to get where you're going. I know you need to pack half of your worldly possessions on your person when you're on the bus. I am quite sure you didn't appreciate feeling my crotch on your hip.
2. I know my sense of space is different than yours, but please acknowledge me.

OK. Maybe those two things are closer to one thing, now that I look at it that way.

Inconclusion

I believe that I very rarely expect apologies from other people, and I can count on one hand the number of times in my life that I have refused an apology... but I have to use two hands to count the number of apologies (not counting the types in this blog earlier) I've sincerely given this month. I even apologize on the internet sometimes (I think I'm one of the three people that do that).

When I don't feel like giving a sincere apology, I feel justified in declining (of course... who doesn't?). When I hope for an apology, I feel it's uncommon enough to warrant consideration. When both of those things happen at the same time and the other person disagrees, shit hits the fan.

So, yeah. I often wonder if I apologize too much, too little, or just enough. Maybe I'll start worrying when I think I know the answer.