Yesterday I communicated online with a seller from Facebook Marketplace who’d listed a couple items I was interested in. “I’d like to look at them before deciding to buy them,” I said. “Where and when would be good to meet?”

“I’ll be in Fort Smith tomorrow around 3:00,” they said.

Maybe they’ll tell me where later, I thought.

This afternoon they said, “Looks like it’s going to be about 4:30.” And whereas I was beginning to doubt 1) whether I really wanted the items and 2) if this person would actually show up, about 4:20 I went ahead and got ready to go. Climbing into the car, I messaged the seller. “Where should we meet?” I said. Alas, twenty-five minutes later I was in Fort Smith with no answer. Perhaps it’s just as well, I thought. I really don’t need to spend the money. Plus, the whole situation just felt “off.”

Recently I had a meeting scheduled with someone and the day of woke up three hours early thinking, I should cancel. However, not wanting to be a douchebag, I didn’t. For this, I paid the price. I spent the whole day with an upset stomach. Every hour I was running to the bathroom. (If this is too graphic, I apologize.) Thankfully, by the time the meeting started I calmed down. But never completely. Again, the whole thing just felt “off.” Now, nothing BAD happened, but a few days later the person with whom I met ended up being rude in a text message. Later when I discussed the matter with my therapist she said, “That’s a big deal when your body wakes you up tell you something. My guess is that queasy feeling you had is your body’s particular TELL for ‘this is going to be a waste of our time.’ Next time, cancel.”

Y’all, I get it. Cancelling would have made sense. And it’s not that I didn’t think of it. It just seemed like, well, not a very NICE thing to do. (What does your therapist always say, Marcus? Nice is a strategy–to get people to like you, to get moved up to the front of the line, to get someone in bed.) That’s what I kept thinking today on my way to meet the seller in Fort Smith, that I wanted to cancel but that it was TOO LATE, that it wouldn’t be VERY NICE. So honestly I was relieved when they didn’t respond. Because it gave me an out.

Sort of.

I’ll explain.

When I got to Fort Smith and hadn’t heard anything, I stopped by AutoZone to have my car, Tom Collins, checked. His check engine light’s been on lately. And whereas I assumed it had something to do with the fuel gauge (which lately has said I’m full one minute and empty the next), I wanted to be sure. The good news? I was right. The bad news?

“You’ll probably have to replace the entire fuel pump,” the guy said, “and that’ll run you $390.”

Plus tax, of course.

Okay, I thought, I definitely don’t need to buy anything today. So, still not having heard anything from the seller and twenty minutes after we were supposed to meet, I wrote them, “I came to town to meet you but ended up having car trouble along the way. Unfortunately, I’ll be spending my money on auto repairs. I apologize for any inconvenience.”

At which point they replied, “Wow I drove fifteen minutes.”

No “I’m sorry about your car” or anything.

Which just goes to show you that we all make everything about us.

Now, do I blame this person for being upset? No. Over the years I’ve had plenty of people flake out on dance lessons at the last minute or not show up at all, and it’s frustrating. Especially if you’re counting on the money. Do I wish that they’d been more gracious about it (I mean, I drove fifteen minutes too, and my car’s broken), or that we’d both communicated more clearly in the first place? Of course. And if IFS and BUTS were candy and nuts, we’d all have a Merry Christmas. In other words, this isn’t the way things went down in reality.

Y’all, I could go on and on about what I think both me and this other person did right and wrong in this situation. If this were a gameshow and you could all vote–I’m sure–some of you would say I’m the shithead here, and others would say the seller is. Some of you would think BOTH of us are. I think that’s the camp I’m in. Meaning that some circumstances in life aren’t cut and dried. Instead, they’re simply less than ideal. Gross.

Like, aren’t we glad that’s over?

Having had the evening to over-process this mess, I have a few takeaways. First, more and more I’m learning to trust my intuition. That is, I’m glad I cancelled, since, based on the person’s response, I don’t think I would have enjoyed or felt good about the interaction had it gone through. Granted, I didn’t follow my intuition as soon as I could have (and thus the mess), but I did follow it faster than I would have even a year ago, and that’s progress. Which brings me to my second point–authenticity and the self-esteem necessary to pursue it are things that require PRACTICE, and this practice, rather than occurring on a grand scale (like in a court room), more often occurs in the nitty gritty of everyday life. With our friends. With our family. With total strangers we meet on Facebook.

This is the shit my therapist and I talk about, the day-to-day dramas. Sure, we discuss THE BIG STUFF, but usually the little stuff leads us to the big stuff, since the little stuff tends to touch a wound. I’m not good enough. I did something wrong. Why doesn’t everyone like me?

Of course, not everyone is supposed to like you. (Why not, Marcus?) Because you need PRACTICE liking yourself no matter what.

Seen from this perspective, I COULD be thankful for the seller’s response today. (“The response THEY CHOSE,” my therapist would say.)

Are you thankful, Marcus?

I’m working on it before your very eyes.

Over a year ago I wrote about a statue of mine I call ANY DANCING JESUS that images Christ with his arms raised overhead as if here were just beginning the chorus of “YMCA.” Anyway, this evening while futzing with a picture frame and the cover an old book, I placed the statue inside the frame. (See above for results.) In the process I remembered that, despite the fact that Jesus was the original DFF (damn fine fella), not everyone liked him either. (So what makes you think they’ll like you?) I also remembered that part of his message was to “rise above,” or see things from a higher perspective. (See above for results.) Like, for all I know, I did the seller a favor by getting them out of their house where they otherwise would have been robbed or mugged. Lastly, I remembered that by his example Christ taught us to set it free, bitch. (I added the bitch part.) That is, he taught us to forgive, forgive, forgive (ourselves and others), to let go (of our mistakes and the mistakes of others), and to not judge (anyone including ourselves).

Of course, these amount to the same thing.