Nice.

I know that my friends and even my family might not agree with this, but I used to be a really nice person. I am talking about the type of nice that you are to strangers or new acquaintances, when you first meet them. Or distant relatives that you see rarely. You’re polite, and you listen to their crap longer than you want to because you’d feel bad cutting them off or disagreeing with them.

Just writing that paragraph made me remember very specific occasions on which I was decidedly not nice. For example, I was shopping with my friend E. at an Express in the Boston area. The clerk was an idiot and instead of being patient I let her know just how much of an idiot she was. As we left the store, E. let me know just how much of a jerk I was to that poor clerk.

That was a long time ago and because it was so long ago, I remember it as an isolated incident. Nowadays, my thinly veiled inner bitch does not need much provocation. Maybe it’s motherhood, or age, or or the 13 years of living in a city where you are on top of your neighbors and surrounded by the unwashed masses at all times, but I quite clearly see that I have lost my patience with idiots and people who do not exercise common courtesy.

I’m also just not that nice anymore, or at least not all the time. I just had someone come pick up stuff I was giving away through Freecycle. This person was quite a sad sack, and I was glad that my used item was going to benefit that family. But the person lingered on my front porch, as if eager to make conversation or even a new friend. I wasn’t feeling that charitable, so I kept the chatting light and noncommital, all the while thinking to myself “I really don’t want to talk to you, so please go away.” But I kept on being polite, because I felt bad.

Whenever that feeling, that “I feel bad for you” feeling, comes over me lately, I get pissed at myself and the offending person for wasting my effing time. Then I can cut off the empathy. Just like that.

And just now, a few minutes after this encounter, I realized that I might have missed out on a great conversation and God forbid a new friend, just because I was mad about feeling bad. Still, that realization? It doesn’t make me feel bad.