Here we are at the middle of the month, and still no blow-up. Instead I got a little glimpse inside M’s head while he had his guard down. We were eating dinner and chatting about I don’t even know what when he said, “You know, I really hate to be wrong.”
“No one can be right all the time. That’s just not possible. You’re not god,” I replied.
“I know, but I still want to be right.”
“What if you’re not?”
“I hate that – it means that someone else is right and I hate that.”
Instead of hammering on him to explain, I let it go, but it’s been simmering in the back of my mind ever since. It explains a lot. It justifies nothing, but it does explain why he insists on deconstructing, minimizing and outright denying any intelligent thought I might have if it goes against what he believes is right. What a putz.