The Great Spit Treaty of 2017

by Jason John Bartholomew

June 20, 2017

I don’t, actually, need you to like me. Don’t you think someone like me would have changed by now into someone more like you if that was a priority concern of mine?

True, I did want you to like me for the longest time. I liked you, so why not? You’re a stone cold freak and can I appreciate that. However, do not fret, you win. You have very successfully disavowed me of the delusion I see in you someone likable. Now we both don’t like each other. And that is A-OK. Because I don’t need you to like me.

I might, however, need you to stop hating me with such a visceral tangibility. Because that’s a different thing altogether, now isn’t it? Your insistence at letting me into so many nooks and crannies of your life via your militant professed distaste is going to keep us, people who don’t like each other, crossing trip wires for a lot longer than is necessary or benefits either of us. Comprehendez? Extreme aversion is as much an attachment as extreme attraction, and if you’re attached to me then I am, by definition, attached to you.

Unless you’re ready to admit, finally,that I have some strange power over you and you just can’t seem to keep me out of your thoughts and keep my name out of your mouth? Uh huh. Thought so.

Perhaps we could have a Nameless Treaty. I won’t speak your name, if I can even remember it, not even in my head if possible, and you won’t speak mine anywhere either. Period. Not so much dead to each other as sort of… in suspension of sorts; removed from the realm by mutual consent.

Win/win, no? But it’s not a deal until we spit on it. And since I’m wasting so much perfectly good spit in your direction anyway…

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