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Wrestle Mania

April 14, 2009

I sometimes liken myself to the Estelle Getty character, Sophia, on The Golden Girls, the one whose internal censor was rendered mute by a stroke. Sophia became the fool whose apparently crippled intellect earns freer speech than that afforded ordinary citizens. In theatre, the fool is a device that moves the action forward, sharing secrets with the audience and warning tragic figures of their pending fall. On The Golden Girls, Sophia called others on their bullshit, pointing out who was wearing too much perfume, when someone was courting trouble, weighing in that a boyfriend was a loser.

This is where Sophia and I differ, since I can’t blame foolishness for the things that come out of my mouth, and typically, what I say is not so much a critique as a lack of filtration. Maybe it’s shyness, maybe I skip the part of storytelling where I sift the details and tailor things to suit my audience. Perhaps, my manners simply aren’t as keen as I think.

I believe I have plenty of social grace, but now and then, something slips out that really ought to have remained in my brain for private enjoyment. Rarely is it awful or offensive–a slightly lewd remark, a moderately off-colour joke, a reference to a past that we needn’t revisit, an accidental insult. All forgivable, excusable, easily set right. I’m not a jerk, nor am I reckless with my words or reluctant to apologise. I will make a mess, then I will fetch a broom and sweep it up.

Dating someone new is a bit like looking down a well, one with an inch or two of water in the bottom, just enough to cast my reflection back at me from its pool…and then, filling the reservoir with accidental slips, inappropriate information, fuck-ups and words that splash rather than flow. Ordinarily, my good sense and good manners subdue the internal Sophia, and I avoid saying anything truly stupid. And, when I do slip, I manage to spin it to look cute, all part of my awkward charm. Then, I relax, release Sophia from the figure-four leg-lock…and blam…something comes out and I’m pinned to the mat by my own tongue.

3 Comments leave one →
  1. looka permalink
    April 16, 2009 8:40 am

    If you’re like me you basically do two things:
    A)Take good care of that knot in your tounge and see it stays there.

    B)Let it run, then step on it when you try to stop it from going too far. Cause more chaos with that and have good laughs about it afterwards.

  2. Amanda permalink
    April 16, 2009 12:21 pm

    Oh, Simon, I will now imagine you forever, stepping on your own tongue like a big long snake.

    Right now, things are casual and quiet, who knows where they’re headed…so…I kind of figure I might as well let it all out, haha, and he can either change his mind that I am not the lady he thought I might be, or take the whole package as it comes. Too much work, fighting my own tongue!

  3. looka permalink
    April 16, 2009 2:28 pm

    Yeah, absolutely!
    No point in controlling the thing. Iend up wrapped in it all the time…

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