I am, by nature, a pretty sensitive person. I try not to let myself get upset over trivial things, and I understand that not everyone I meet will like me. Nevertheless, I do, on some level, always try to make people like me, and am hurt when I feel that I have failed.
Even worse than this, however, is when I feel that I am annoying or pushing away someone who is a friend. Being someone who has a deep -one might say obsessive- love of comic books (particularly of the super-hero variety), I often find myself discussing intensely a storyline or character or some other feature of my favorite titles with my friends, who are not comic book readers. Most of the time, they seem politely interested, and I trust them to let me know if I am beginning to ramble or if I start to bore them. I understand that not everyone is into what I’m into, and I have no problem with someone cutting in and saying “This is really cool and all, but I’m really just not that into this stuff. Mind if we talk about something else?”
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| After all, what possible reason could they have to not be honest with me? |
Sure, I’d be a little embarrassed, but I would totally understand and not hold it against that person at all. And my friends tend to be actually interested in what I’m talking about (or else really good at faking it). Most of the time, I can rest easy, knowing that my friends are not bored and annoyed with my comic-talk. Recently, that all changed.
You should all remember Bernacki.
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| This image burns itself into the backs of one's eyelids. |
Well, the other day Bernacki and I were in my room, talking. She noticed my various pieces of comic book art that I had decorated the wall space directly above my desk and on my cork board with, and I, acting on what I assumed was interest on her part, began telling her the background stories of the various characters. As usual, I trusted that my friend would let me know, kindly, if I was going too far. What a fool I was. After all, this was Bernacki. She’s a scientist, damn it! She doesn’t have time for my nonsense! This is pretty much how our conversation went:
Me:…so then, hee hee, then Batman just belts him, and knocks him out. Hahaha! One punch! Bwa-ha-ha! Oh, man, Guy’s just my favorite character right now…
Bernacki: Yeah, have you ever noticed how rough the wall is over here?
Me: Heh, heh… Uh, um… really? Umm, no I never noticed…
Bernacki: Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt…
Me: Oh, that’s fine… So, anyway, J’onn and Black Canary walk in…
Bernacki: Yup, pretty rough. It’s a rough wall. You’ve never noticed?
Me:…
Bernacki: Yeah, so I better get back to my paper…
And then she left. She left me, suddenly alone with my awkwardness and insecurities. I began to wonder, was Bernacki the only one of my friends who didn’t want to hear my stories, or was she simply the only one bold enough to make it so painfully clear?
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| Sure, the wall is rough. Rough like finding out that your friendship is a lie. |
I agonized over this question for the rest of the day. That night, my sleep was not restful. I dreamt I was going through a box of action figures, trying to explain the characters to someone who kept trying to walk away. I’d keep pulling him back to me, insisting that the characters’ biographies were interesting, but we both knew that he just didn’t care. I woke up, and was truly aware for the first time in my life that, no matter how much you love something and think it is wonderful and exciting, there will always be people who just don’t care and never will. What is really important, I now realize, is that I have friends who love me and want to be around me even though our interests don’t match up perfectly, and that makes them all precious to me. Except Bernacki.
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| Seriously, our friendship is over. |
Of course, this doesn’t mean that I have any intention of stopping my practice of sharing comic book stories with my friends. After all, I believe it was that loveable death-machine Doomsday’s motto that “Anything that doesn’t cause great pain and suffering is simply not worth doing!” So, my dear friends can all rest assured that I intend to be expressing my fondness for them through the tellings and retellings and re-retellings of my favorite stories for some time to come now. Because I love them all like Batman loves Robin; with detached but dutiful parental affection, and clear homoerotic undertones.
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| I'm Batman in this analogy, and my friends are Very Uncomfortable. |
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