I find it annoying when someone seems to be deliberately unaware of what is said in a conversation in which they are participating. Sometimes, they can even be the person making nonsensical comments with little relation to reality. Are they being deliberately obtuse? Is it just a distorted self-image? Perhaps a form of self-preservation. Whatever the cause, it can definitely be amusing as well as annoying.

Recently, I was leaving work for the day. I left the office I share with three other people, one of whom is female. As I walked out the door, I said, “Well, I’ll see you dudes later.”

My female coworker replied, “That’s sexist.”

“What?”

“That’s sexist.”

“Fine. I’ll see you guys later.”

“Much better.”

How is that better? Aren’t both words considered masculine (regardless of how I use them). I don’t think she got that one wasn’t much different from the other. Of course, she could have been joking (I certainly hope she was).

I also experienced this in high school. I was interested in a girl who was not interested in me, though we spent a bit of time together, often alone (I guess she liked me like a friend, not liked me liked me according to the Semantics of Relationship). We sat together talking as she lamented the state of her recent relationship.

“Why can’t I find a decent guy?”

“Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong place.”

“But I look everywhere!”

“Are you sure? I mean, someone could be, uh, right beside you.”

At this point, the conversation paused for a moment. Just a beat as the import of my words sunk in. She looked at me as if considering the implications of what I said.

“You know, I would love to find a guy like you.”

“Really?” Was this really working?

“Yeah. I feel safe with you. You always make me smile, you’re sweet, and I just like being around you.”

“Well, what do you say then?”

“About what?”

“About me. Um, us. You could date me.”

“Oh, don’t be so silly.” I wonder if she knew how much the laughter hurt.

“But you said you wanted a guy like me. I am a guy like me.”

“Right, but you’re you. I want a guy just like you who isn’t you.”

“That makes no sense.”

I didn’t think she got what she was saying or understood the contradictory nature of her words. The sad thing (or funny thing, depending on your perspective) is, I had a similar conversation with a different girl the next year. We sat and talked, but this girl was actually laying across two chairs with her head in my lap, making it nearly impossible to avoid eye contact.

“Why can’t I find a decent guy?”

“Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong place.”

“But I look everywhere!” Déjà vu!

“Are you sure? Someone could be close. Someone like me.” I thought it was better to assert myself as a suitor earlier on this time.

“You know, I would like to date a guy like you.”

“So how about me.”

“Oh, I could never date you.”

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t work out.”

“But you said you wanted to date a guy like me.”

“Yeah. I would date a guy like you.”

“So, you want to date someone exactly like me, except that he isn’t me.”

“Exactly.” I was as perplexed as the year before.

Sometimes “not getting it” comes though observation of someone else not getting it. I once sat at a table during lunch at Austin Peay and had a conversation with a woman who clearly needed medication to find balance. We spoke for quite some time, or rather, she spoke while I listened and nodded my head or said “Hmm.” as seemed appropriate. When she finally had to go to class, a friend of mine who watched the exchange came over.

“That was amazing,” he said.

“What?”

“She thought you were actually interested in what she was saying. She didn’t get it that you weren’t interested at all. How did you do that.”

“Well, mostly, I just listened and asked a few questions. I think that’s all she needed. Someone to listen to her for a while.”

“But you seemed so in to it and she never caught on that you were just humoring her.”

“Why should she? You never catch on.” He laughed because he thought I was joking.

These are all good examples, but my absolute favorite comes by way of a professor I had who was the opposite of self-aware. He taught Psychology and on the first day of class he asked us to give examples of annoying professor habits. As we said the usual things (such as calling on the one person without a raised hand), he wrote them on the board. When he got to the bottom, he started a second column. Everyone kind of ran out of ideas (or interest), but he wanted one more.

“OK, these are all good, but we have five in the left column and four in the right. How about one more to balance this out?”

I couldn’t resist and raised my hand. He pointed to be, so I said, “Professors who are anal retentive.”

“Oh, good one!” He put it on the list then added bullets to each line. The class snickered and looked at me. I just shrugged. I couldn’t believe he didn’t get that I was talking about him.

The level of cluelessness he exhibited still amuses me. Of course, it also frightens me because I wonder how often I do the same thing. How often I don’t get that I’m contradicting myself or that someone is referring to me. At least he didn’t talk about himself in the third person. Leighton hates people who do that.

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