Those who know me in real life know that I don’t shy away from criticizing queer people as a category.

I have the usual gripes, I expect:  An overemphasis on fucking, and subsequent fleeing.  An underepmphasis on intersectionality (@WhiteGayBois).  BI-ERASURE(!!!!)  A lack of knowledge of – and faithfulness to – our politically active queer predecessors.

This isn’t really a post about that.  This is a gripe about a much more general fucking-bullshit-ness found in human beings.

I am referring to the unaccountable expectation folks have of others’ telepathy.

Basically.  Stop, uh . . . stop fucking saying, “take a hint.”

Let us say, dear reader, that you are in an ongoing interaction with a human person.  Maybe they’re a friend, an acquaintance, someone you’ve been dating, someone you are hooking up with for the night.  Let us say you no longer want to be in an ongoing interaction.

Q: At this stage, can the other person be reasonably expected to know you don’t want to talk?
A: No, dumb-dumb.

Correct!  You have done well.

Let’s say you start responding to this person’s correspondence less quickly, or maybe stop responding at all.  The responses you do make are short.  Curt, even.

Q: At this stage, can the other person be reasonably expected to know you don’t want to talk?
A: Yes.  Except, oh wait.  I misread everything you said in that paragraph up there as, “You express your feelings to the person.”  My bad.  Of course

You got there eventually!

The thing is, I’m afraid of everything.  I empathize with the impulse to avoid confrontation.  I understand hoping that this human takes your hint.  You can hope that your friend brings you cocoa on a cold day, but it isn’t their job to know you want it.  Or to make it peppermint like you like and . . . yeah.

If I seem to be stating the obvious here – I agree!  This is all very obvious, and nobody should have to point it out, but here I am pointing it out.  Almost as if . . . some people .. . have given me reason to reflect on it.  (Here I am venting on my “creative platform.”)  But being the non-hint-taker a lot of the time situates me uniquely to give you some food for thought:

  • I generally think each of my friends hates me, secretly.  (I’m a cliché.  Moving on.)  I twist every behavior that could possibly indicate dislike into a sure sign our relationship is over.
  • When I express this fear – to the friend or a third party – I am assured it’s just my anxiety.  An irrational fear.
  • I have therefore developed the habit of reassuring myself of the same.  “This is your anxietybrain talking.  They do not hate me.”   See that ambiguous behavior?  Not a threat.
  • In other words, I work very hard to not “take” hints that aren’t actually being dropped.
  • See why this is problematic when hints are being dropped?

I guess I am just hoping you’ll remember to treat people like people.  That is to say, treat people like deeply flawed clouds of swirling insecurity and meat.  I will work on it too.  Isn’t that what non-denominational winter holiday is all about?

Anyway, back to my gripes with queer people.  What the shit is the deal with Grindr?  I know I’m not the only one who does this: delete, install, delete, install, delete . . .

Okay, bye.

– J