Turning Points

I think the most important thing any girl ever said to me was this, "You know, you're a pretty immature sort of person." It happened when I was fourteen; like most young people of that age, I'd started experimenting with alcohol and extreme eating habits, and I thought I'd never die.

It was a comment that I would ordinarily have brushed off. It wasn't that the young lady in question meant a lot to me, it wasn't that she was being bitingly cruel without meaning it. She meant it, all right. At that point (well, I'd like to think angels were watching with bated breath, but they probably weren't), something happened. I actually listened.

And encouraged, that young lady went on to tell me a few home truths.

It's a tremendously sobering experience, let me tell you, to hear a slim and innocent-looking girl tell you all the bad things about you she's learnt from two dates and a church camp.

I must regretfully say, however, that I learnt only half a lesson. That half was: to never allow myself to be rightfully accused of those things again. As I grew up, I learnt that there were other bad things you could be accused of.

You keep learning, and you keep halving the problem. But it never ends. And once in a while, some idiot (oops) will provoke you beyond your newly-learnt limit and you become recidivist again. Sigh. It is especially tough when people you find it hard to respect tell you that they don't respect you.

The instinctive response is: "So what? I don't respect you or your opinions, why should I bother to listen?"

The problem with that is of course that they might be right.