How could anyone not like me?

My mother and I continue to be amazed: How could anyone not like me?  I mean … meeee!

What’s not to like?

Well there was that very public, lets call it “breakup,” that some people are still talking about.

Then there was that drunken public urination (all over someone’s windscreen with people in the car), and the subsequent completely unrelated fist fight.

But at least that last one was over two-decades ago, and apart from these, I’m drawing a blank on public humiliations.

So why else would people not like me?  Why else, why else?

They don’t like my face

This I have a lot of empathy for.

Been there myself.

Remember that kid in your class when you were 11 or 12 years old, that you just didn’t like?

Why was that?

Sometimes there was a story to accompany the dislike; maybe the kid insulted you or ignored you, or even laughed at you and who got even your friends to laugh at you?  Now that’s reason to hate.

But sometimes it was just that face.

“Hey!  You!  I don’t like your face!”

What’s an appropriate response to that?

The wise or the weak (we called them sissies) headed the other way, the bullies, the overconfident, or the otherwise predisposed to a good altercation would rise to the occasion and then a fight would ensue.

The aftermath would often find positions entrenched, but many times the rather curious result of new respect and friendships would occur.

How weird is that?

But for many, there was never any meeting of the minds or bodies and this undeclared hatred either festered or faded away over time.

Everybody wants to be liked

I clearly would like everyone to like me.

What’s not to like?

But that’s not going to happen.  There are people who don’t like Gandhi, and people who do like Hitler.  Like taste, there’s just no accounting for why people like what they do, and not like what they don’t.

I console myself by saying, … if they don’t like me (sniff), it’s just because they don’t know me.

Truth is there are things about me that are not likable, and there are things about me that are; and probably a whole number of things about me that won’t move you either way.

I wish people were taught to accept the mixed bag of sweet and sour that we all are.  Taken in pieces you might be lucky to get the sweet, or unlucky to get the sour.

Taken as a whole you get to experience something more akin to the Chinese dish that’s unique and actually quite special.