Output 44—The Power of Distaste

It’s not that I dislike you, my dear. I simply find the thought of you distasteful.

Back in the day, when it was risky for a woman to have a negative opinion, simple dislike was often couched as “distaste.”

Liking someone, having kind, friendly feelings about a person with whom you feel a connection, is considered virtuous. I was taught by the liberal Catholics (the kind that love the Beatitudes, not Paul and Revelations, thank goodness they still exist) and by my “Free to Be You and Me” record that everyone, deep down, is good, even if they don’t act like it; and everyone, deep down, is likable, if you search long enough for their good qualities.

I still basically believe this, and therefore, when I dislike someone, it feels like a sin (Naturally this is one reason why I am experiencing some particularly tragic cognitive dissonance re the whole MAGA situation). When I dislike someone, it also feels like a curse. If I dislike you, it’s probably me projecting because you don’t like ME, and it’s freaking me out. If I dislike you but refuse to admit it, if I act like I like you anyway, that’s Step One to assuring that YOU will like me. It’s transactional like that, apparently.

The problem with this outlook is that this means that if I dislike you, and can’t admit it, I usually turn that feeling inward. Then the process begins of me doing whatever I can to convince you that I like you and, ergo, you WILL come to like me. I must strive, above all things, to be likable! Especially now, when being overheard uttering one unskilled phrase in a private conversation is enough to get a person shunned from an entire social group.

I think that means, especially now, for me, that it is very important to admit it when I dislike someone, and to act like it. However, acting like it does not mean outwardly being an aggro cunt. That’s EVERYONE these days. It’s so common (of course it’s also mostly played out anonymously online because EVERYONE is doing the dance described above in a desperate attempt to maintain their successful IRL relationships), and I detest being common.

So I think I’m going to revert a century or so and take up the habit of acknowledging and expressing my distaste for those whose values or behavior I find distasteful. After all, taste is completely subjective and faultless. I can’t help what tastes good to me, and what doesn’t. And more and more, I don’t feel like staying at the table to happily consume my overpriced lobster bisque when I prefer to turn up my nose, walk away, retrieve my wrap, and stroll haughtily into the evening air.

Sorry ‘bout it.