I Can Be a Real Jerk

“You can be really mean,” my ex-wife once said to me during a fight. “You think you’re a nice guy, but you can be really condescending and insulting.”

“Oh, such a nice guy you are,” my girlfriend said to me recently. “You can be really mean when you want to.”

All of a sudden, I couldn’t pawn it off on my ex, rationalizing that it was her. Certainly, I couldn’t be that way, could I?

When my current girlfriend leveled the charge at me, I had to take a hard look in the mirror.

It’s not them, it’s me. And the truth hurt.

Sometimes I can be a dick.

. . .

I wish I could say I don’t mean to be, but in those moments, sometimes I do. I’m coming from a place of hurt and defensiveness, and I want to reflect back what I’m feeling.

Just to get even. Out of spite, and to make the other person feel as bad and hurt as I am in those moments.

This is an important realization to have about myself:

Knowing how badly I can hurt others is a reflection on me and the way I relate in moments I know I’m wrong.

That however aware I am of my partner’s needs and wants, however well I (mostly) communicate in an honest, respectful, open way, whatever other good qualities I have as a partner or boyfriend, like trustworthiness, dependability, being accommodating, and (I hope) a sense of humor, at times I can be a real jerk.

At first this epiphany made me kind of sad, made me question the way I perceive myself. But I then found it kind of refreshing.

Because if I can choose to be a jerk, I can also choose not to be. And choosing to be a better man, especially when it’s not easy, is what I’ve been writing about and trying to do all along.

I know I’m not perfect…but the moments when I treat the person I love the most the worst are the ones I truly regret.

. . .

I’m not above making the problem worse, either.

I struggle at taking criticism, even at times and in conversations when we’re talking about how to be better partners, better communicators, for each other and for ourselves.

After the argument with my girlfriend, later that night, when making attempts at repair, I was still hyper-defensive and on edge.

I had a shield up and was playing the victim. Instead of calming down, and listening — actually hearing what she was saying — I was wallowing in my certitude that I had been wronged. In that moment, I was the one who deserved better treatment, not her, not us.

I did two things wrong in this situation.

First, and most simply, I should have recognized I was still triggered.

If I could redo that moment, I would have acknowledged how I was feeling, and asked that we have the conversation later, in the morning, after a cleansing night of sleep.

But I didn’t — and I made the problem worse. I was antagonistic, and deflecting, and dare I say it…a bit of an asshole.

In making myself the victim, I made the sure-tell mistake that arises out of insecurity and hurt: I started my sentences with the word ‘you.’

You did this. You said that. You, you, you.

All that does is shift blame, deflecting responsibility for my thoughts and actions and casting mean-spirited and one-sided judgment on her as well.

She did the right thing. She called it a night, ended the conversation, and went to bed.

I stewed and seethed in anger and resentment. I had a fitful night of rest.

In the morning we talked about the night before. We hugged it out. I acknowledged where I was wrong in what I said and how I acted. I thanked her for recognizing the need to defuse the situation and then doing so.

Then we went on with our days, and I was left thinking some cold truths about myself.

. . .

That truth isn’t that I’m a jerk or an asshole.

But knowing there are times when I can act like one, I saw the great divide between how I like to think of myself, and how I sometimes am.

I can still see the look on her face in response to my attitude. The annoyance, the sense of being fed up and pushed to her limit, the disdain.

One of the unfortunate realities of relationships is that because we spend so much time with our significant others, they are going to see us when we are not at our best. And when we aren’t, they are going to be on the receiving end of our worst tendencies.

It’s a critical reality to acknowledge. It can take years of work and practice and misfires to see this and try to correct it, hopefully before it happens, but if not, at least afterwords.

It’s important to allow the room for the love that exists between you to show. Even when you’re being a dick, even when you feel your partner is coming off as a snake.

I find these kinds of blow-ups to be humbling. Because afterwards I see where I fail, I see the hurt I caused, and yet she returns anyway, with respect, love and all the things that brought us together in the first place.

So this is what I must remind myself when my behavior comes up short:

When I’m hurt, I should recognize it, speak to it and don’t suppress it. Sooner rather than later, if possible.

If I don’t feel like talking about it, or am unable to engage in honest repair, if I’m in a mindset where if I do talk, nothing good will happen, it’s OK to put off the conversation and to ask for time.

We should apply the Hippocratic oath to our relationships: the first rule is to do no harm.

Most importantly, I can’t and shouldn’t confuse my intent with what my actual words and actions will convey.

It matter less how I intend my words and actions to be received than how they are actually are. Understanding there can frequently can be a gap between intent and reality can help make your communication and interactions better and stronger.

Lastly, it’s not enough to be a good guy. It’s not enough to get it right most of the time.

This is not a call for perfection, but each interaction stands on its own, free from the past. It’s the present that matters most. And when you get it wrong, you have to own up to it — and try to fix it.

I must remember what I’m capable of, the good things and the bad.

“Don’t be a jerk” seems like advice I should be able to follow by now — but I guess a reminder of that doesn’t hurt.

Because being one to my best friend does, both her and me.

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This post was previously published on P.S. I Love You and is republished here with permission from the author.
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