Communicating Reality

"Conner pulled My Hair!"

This was The Complaint registered with me by A Young Girl In Third Grade last week. Of course, I told her what My MOM used to tell me:

"I know it is Annoying. But, He is only doing it because He Likes You."

My MOM used to tell me that all the time. Throughout elementary school, my arch nemesis was a boy I shall call Luke Skywalker. I will call him Luke Skywalker because that is the part he used to play when we played Star Wars during Recess in Second Grade. I never got to be Princess Leia. That part went to The Prettiest Girl In School who later grew up to be A Total Whore. Instead, I was chosen to play Chewbacca. I didn't Complain because it still technically was A Lead and I got to Hang With Han Solo, who was Really Cute. And at least I didn't get stuck playing A Stupid Storm Trooper like all The Other Kids. Anyhow, Hair Pulling, Name Calling, Arm Poking -- you named it, Luke Skywalker did it. Sometimes, he left me in Tears. When I would Complain to My MOM she would simply respond, "I KNOW IT IS ANNOYING. BUT, HE IS ONLY DOING IT BECAUSE HE LIKES YOU."

At the time, I thought My MOTHER was Crazy with A Capital C. Well, I Still Think That. But, what I Couldn't Understand at the time was that If Someone Liked Me, why would they be Trying To Hurt Me? Why didn't they just Present Me With A Friendship Bracelet like Everyone Else? Or go Rollerskating With Me afterschool? Or Pick Me To Play Princess Leia when we played Star Wars during Recess? It just didn't Add Up.

Of course, these Boys Who Resort To Hair Pulling As A Way To Let You Know They Like You When They Are Kids are simply Experiencing Difficulty Communicating Their Feelings. And when they Get Older, they still Experience Difficulty Communicating Their Feelings. But, instead of Pulling Your Hair, they Just Don't Call You When You Think They Will. Or they Make Your Life Hell While You Are Dating Them By, Say, Working Through Dinner And Making You Sit Through Boring Football Games So That You Will Break Up With Them First. Or, occasionally, They Get Stuck In The Proverbial Closet And Grow Up To Be Cowboys. Don't Ask, Don't Tell, is The Standard Policy For These Non-Communicative Boys.

Just as I had responded years ago, I watched The Little Girl return to her seat with A Confused and Mildly Disgusted Look On Her Face after I told her He Liked Her. But, The Smirk Of Pleasure on The Accused Boy's Face as She Sat Down told me I knew What I Was Talking About.

Or, My MOM, Knew at any rate. It seems, sometimes, MOM Does Know Best.

Even CRAZY ones.