Turn The Paige
At a brewpub one afternoon, I was hoping to eat in relative silence.
The only other people at the obsessively-clean bar were two extremely-stereotypical motorcycle riders. A couple, perhaps. Him- leather, tattoos, beer gut. Her- leather, tattoos, beer gut.
They soon left and, after the loud fart sound of their engine, I got the silence I was seeking.
The bartender asked how I was doing and I said "Fine" with a genuine, confident smile.
The door then swung open and a hipster walked in with a middle-aged man. Boldly ignoring the dozens of empty seats at the bar, the duo sat two away from me, and I was on a corner so they were pretty much on my lap.
Furious, I texted my friend Melissa because she understands.
I told her what was happening and that if they started talking to me, she might hear about it on the news.
But the pair (loudly) kept to themselves while running the gamut of my disinterests- mortgage rates, bank loans, baseball, hunting trips.
Having no choice but to listen to this garbage, I heard the hipster mention Paige, who I quickly learned was his girlfriend. He wanted to buy a house with Paige and a marriage proposal was being discussed.
The older man was not the hipster's father but Paige's father and this was THE conversation.
My mild appreciation that the hipster was being a traditional gentleman could not compete with the rage of having to hear to this nonsense.
Awkward questions, bad jokes, giggling; I just knew they were somehow going to rope me in.
My eyes focused on my meal, yet my peripherals showed that Paige's father was constantly looking toward me. However, my conviction was strong and my cheesesteak was tasty.
The manager came over and asked if I wanted anything else. While a pair of gloves and a loaded, unregistered revolver would have been great, I went with "Check, please", like they do in the movies to get out of awful situations.
On his way to the register, the manager noticed Paige's dad and shook his hand because of course they knew each other.
"…and this is my future son-in-law."
"Isn't it a little early to be telling people?", the hipster protested in an aww-shucks-golly-gee-whiz manner.
"You're right. But only the three of us know. And this guy next to us, but he won't tell anybody, right???"
Told you they would find a way to involve me.
…
I had been reading a book by a psychiatrist who advocates telling 100% of the truth all the time. The theory is interesting, but I never fully realized the practicality of it until the situation at that bar.
Physically feeling the burning awkwardness of their stares, I looked up to meet six hopeful eyes and three pathetic smiles.
"I won't say anything because I don't care."
I said it quickly and returned to what was left of my beer. I was not seeking to spoil anybody's good time. I just truly did not care that somebody I didn’t know was almost engaged, which is even more pointless than being almost married.
'They' say honesty is the best policy and what reason did I have to lie to strangers?
But unholy moly, I felt great. I had thought of a good response and said it with precision.
I texted Melissa immediately for her approval, which was quite hearty. Then we said some mean things about Paige and these bozos but I obviously kept those quiet. (My favorite was, 'I hope they have a November Rain wedding.')
…
I then began to ponder the uncertainty of it all: Was I wrong? I could never tell in situations like this.
Most people would have congratulated them, shaken hands, even bought a round of drinks. I have always considered myself to not be most people.
Why was I supposed to care about their situation? Because they knew I overheard them speaking loudly? Because the hipster and Paige might boost the marriage success numbers? Because they were genuinely happy?
I enjoy when people are happy but rarely want to participate.
What was the alternative? Should I have vomited out a ‘Congratulations’ before wasting time and money lying to strangers?
This was a no-win situation but I somehow came out victorious.
Part of me wishes I was at that bar drinking away some big problem so I could have brought them into that world. I think it would have been fair.
…
I hate obligations and one I proudly avoided was being falsely kind to these people.
Honesty does not equal rudeness or 'being mean'. The truth can be expressed in a nice way, but the bottom line is what you truly think.
You, dear reader, can get your own train of honesty moving right now by leaving a comment below regarding how you feel about this article, my curmudgeonly stance on most things, or whatever else you would like to say.
Good luck and have at it!!!
