I Told You So

[Q. G. Pennyworth]

Dearest darling, love of my life,

We seem to be having a bit of a problem here. Not, I believe, one of communication, but of comprehension. Perhaps it's an issue of trust.

I know I don't know everything. There are things you're just better at than I am, and that's okay. Sometimes I will be so sure of myself and then it will turn out that no, you were right all along. It happens. I do my best to look for objective evidence quickly and own up when I have been digging my heels in. Maybe I don't always get there immediately, but I do my best. You've seen it, you know I'm telling the truth. You are better at directions than I am (my method of navigation relative to a central street does not translate well outside of the town I grew up in), you are better at making Google your bitch.

But, my love, there is a corollary to this truth.

You see, there are things I am better at than you. Some of them you accept with grace, and when that happens our lives are easy and things are fantastic. But sometimes -- sometimes -- you get it in your head that I am too broken or broken in the wrong ways and you assume that all of my judgment calls must be bad ones, because sometimes my judgment is a little off.

But my judgment is not off about the people we need to run away from.

No, my dear. I am descended from generations of crazy people and the only way we survive long enough to pass this shit on without completely crapping the bed is having our danger sense turned up to eleven all the goddamned time and having a nose like a k-9 unit for crazy motherfuckers who will ruin us.

You have acknowledged this ability of mine on numerous occasions, specifically right after someone who I fucking told you was no good proceeds to wreck our shit. And always, you are surprised by these instances. Like no one saw it coming. Like each instance of a shady asshole messing up our lives is a complete fluke. Like no one could have anticipated that your wife could be right about the thing she's always right about.

And every time you assure me "yes, honey, I will listen to you next time." And then there is a next time and you do not fucking listen.

I love you.

Next time I'm calling Jimmy Walnuts on your stupid ass.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

When you want to know who is good to be around, at least consult a crazy person.

They may think of things that don't occur to you (in this case, whomever it was you were addressing).

And then Jimmy Walnuts. 

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

I have notoriously bad spidey sense about character, as I tend to give too many benefits of the doubt, but notoriously good spidey sense about stupid drama. Your husband would do well to learn to do what I do, which is turn to the people around me who are GOOD at picking up on character to find out what the lowdown is.

[Q. G. Pennyworth]

I have notoriously bad spidey sense about character, as I tend to give too many benefits of the doubt, but notoriously good spidey sense about stupid drama. Your husband would do well to learn to do what I do, which is turn to the people around me who are GOOD at picking up on character to find out what the lowdown is.

He is in some ways crippled by his own success. He actually pulled off a major lifestyle/personality overhaul in adulthood, and reformed into a genuinely good and interesting person to be around. Unfortunately, that means he really really believes that everyone else is capable of doing the same, and feels like an asshole if he doesn't give them the benefit of the doubt.

[minuspace]

Dearest darling, love of my life,

We seem to be having a bit of a problem here. Not, I believe, one of communication, but of comprehension. Perhaps it's an issue of trust.

I know I don't know everything. There are things you're just better at than I am, and that's okay. Sometimes I will be so sure of myself and then it will turn out that no, you were right all along. It happens. I do my best to look for objective evidence quickly and own up when I have been digging my heels in. Maybe I don't always get there immediately, but I do my best. You've seen it, you know I'm telling the truth. You are better at directions than I am (my method of navigation relative to a central street does not translate well outside of the town I grew up in), you are better at making Google your bitch.

But, my love, there is a corollary to this truth.

You see, there are things I am better at than you. Some of them you accept with grace, and when that happens our lives are easy and things are fantastic. But sometimes -- sometimes -- you get it in your head that I am too broken or broken in the wrong ways and you assume that all of my judgment calls must be bad ones, because sometimes my judgment is a little off.

But my judgment is not off about the people we need to run away from.

No, my dear. I am descended from generations of crazy people and the only way we survive long enough to pass this shit on without completely crapping the bed is having our danger sense turned up to eleven all the goddamned time and having a nose like a k-9 unit for crazy motherfuckers who will ruin us.

You have acknowledged this ability of mine on numerous occasions, specifically right after someone who I fucking told you was no good proceeds to wreck our shit. And always, you are surprised by these instances. Like no one saw it coming. Like each instance of a shady asshole messing up our lives is a complete fluke. Like no one could have anticipated that your wife could be right about the thing she's always right about.

And every time you assure me "yes, honey, I will listen to you next time." And then there is a next time and you do not fucking listen.

I love you.

Next time I'm calling Jimmy Walnuts on your stupid ass.

So I'm forced to record some of these conversations, because clearly the person talking (to me on the phone) has no idea of how fucking insane they sound.  I wait a few days for the shit to settle, then I play the tape back to them.  Consternated, indignant at first, they eventually seem to understand and apologize profusely, only to do it again, and again.  The thing is that perhaps I'm giving myself too much credit re: /really really/ thinking that I turned myself around, when I continue to entertain the same nonsense while also expecting it to somehow change.