Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood

For those who watch The Real Housewives of New York, I'm having a Ramona Singer moment. I'm all about renewal. Yes, renewal. Well, a sort of renewal. More of a patch up. I'm learning, especially as I get older that certain things you have to eventually confront and put behind you. Obtain closure. I am the first person to admit that I may not have always done the right thing, I have for sure strayed onto the path of not-so-righteousness, but always going back to where I should be and doing what I should be doing.

Anywho, so this year I've been trying to make amends with people I may have wronged, or betrayed, or simply fucked over. You'd think that someone coming up to you and letting you know they're sorry for something that happened would be a nice gesture right? And you'd feel great knowing that person genuinely regretted their actions (of over five years ago by the way) and wanted to make amends right? Too bad my attempts at a peace offering were met with bags of dog shit thrown back at me.

Perhaps I had too large of expectations. You see, because in my mind, when someone tells you they're sorry for something, you accept it and move on. I was never asking to become best friends and starting calling every five minutes to discuss outfits for bar hopping that weekend, but I was certainly not expecting to be ignored. Needless to say, after a few extremely unsuccessful attempts at building upon an off-white past towards a better and brighter future, your confidence that people still like you begins to fade faster than Lohan's chances of recovery.

It makes it worse when you run in such close circles that the inevitability of running into any of these people is higher than certain. One gentleman I tried to patch things up with was the recipient of two messages and came within 4 feet of me at a bar and acted as though I was invisible. It's ironic, because I didn't even really do anything that bad to him, but that's besides the point. He wasn't that good of a friend to begin with. I'll spare the grueling details of the other cases of Padilla-Ravega v. The People Who Shall Not Spit Upon Him Should He Be on Fire.

I did get one genuine (hopefully genuine, hell, after so many doors slammed in my face, one can get a bit skeptical) understanding response. That one might mean the most of all, considering it came from a very dear friend (we were at one point, before I made sure we were not friends anymore). A few close friends have reminded me that the important thing is that I am maturing and learning to attempt to patch things up and move on, regardless of the receptiveness of the recipient. However, me being...well, me, I have the most difficult time with that. I'm getting better with it though. My desire to track down these people, ambush them, and shake them at the shoulders while yelling "I said sorry! What kind of person does not accept an apology that's five years in the making?! What kind of person are you? Who doesn't like apologies?! Everyone likes them! It's the remorseful equivalent of I love you," has drastically decreased.

It does make me feel a little better knowing that I am mature enough to rise up and try to fix things with people and they're too immature to even say "Apology accepted. We're still not friends though," because I'd be okay with that. So in a way, its almost like a backhanded compliment to myself. A silver lining is sometimes a bit more difficult to find in some situations. Perhaps this is it. My confidence just got a bit renewed, and to that I owe the people I have wronged who did not want to accept my apology. And that could possibly be the nicest thing they could have done for me.