Setting The Record Straight

This blog does not serve as a supplement to my ego. It doesn’t exist for the purposes of self-aggrandizement. Any number of posts prove that, but I feel this disclaimer is necessary given the contests to follow.

For those of you that truly know me, you know that I’m not an angry person. If there were a bumper sticker/slogan that empitimized my life it would be “Live and Let Live.” Despite my grandstanding and all that, most people know I’m a firm believer in “what’s right for you is right for you”. And though my anger frequently gets the better of me, I feel it should be noted that I have a long standing track record of self-restraint and discipline.

So I was at West tonight for trivia (we came in third, thanks for asking). As per usual I stayed after the game for a few drinks. There were some new gentlemen there, Billy and Dave. Dave, unfortunately, had very recently been separated from his wife and was of the mindset that alcohol would solve his problems. Now I had no problem with this from 10pm until 12am (and even paid for a few drinks and toasted his dearly departed friend with a round of raspberry kamikazes). Unfortunately, while Billy was an upstanding gentleman, his friend Dave was less than such. After being cut off, he tried to provoke Mark the bartender into serving him. Mark was a good friend of Jack Leary, who you may remember is thought of in my family as second only to Jesus Christ. So I said to Dave that you don’t want to fuck with Mark. On a scale of one to bad-ass, Mark is Finn MacCool. So to help I offered Dave half of my Bud Light. We finished the beer and stepped outside. That’s when he threw me in a choke-hold.

I, naturally, thought he was joking both because we had been so cordial for the past few hours and because it was a weak-ass fucking choke.  When he attempted to tighten it (and I waved off Billy who was trying to break it up), I realized he was serious. According to Dave I had been talking shit about Billy to the bartender.

Now, Mark and I have a very simple relationship. I ask for beer, he gives me beer, I pay him. Conservation, shall we say, is unnecessary. Regardless, Dave decided to choke me. So I let him. He eventually switched from an (ineffective) sleeper hold to a (ineffective) choke. His buddy, Billy, kept begging him to stop but I shrugged Billy off saying it was no big deal and constantly trying to convince Dave that I not only didn’t bad-mouth his friend but was trying to be nice to him. Eventually I got fed up. Instead of killing Dave – which not only did I have the motivation but the ability to do – I walked home.

Herein lies my problem. I know I possess the power to kill Dave. Part of me realizes that he was just going through a bad day given his wife leaving him and shit. Yet there’s a part of me that is disappointed by the fact that I didn’t kill him. My pride hurts for being spit on and taking it. Whether I “took it like a man” or not is irrelevant. I believe that defending your honor is of paramount importance. I am torn between being proud and being ashamed of myself for my behavior. I know I could have easily ripped the man’s larinyx out, but I chose not to. Does that make me more or less of a “man?” This is the question I grapple with.

Peace,
{VM}