One of the odder events from this quarter occurred when I rented a hotel room in order to avoid making the round trip twice in two days. I mentioned to some students that my dog, Ed, was already there. One of them was inspired by this news. After class, she bubbled, let's go to your hotel room, get your dog, take our dogs to the lake, do a doggie play date, and hang out! That she did not consider this an inappropriate or potentially unsafe plan was plainly evident.
I vented to Terrell a couple days later. "I'm so asexual, so unthreatening, that cute little co-eds are, like, inviting themselves to my hotel room for doggie dates."
"You want to be distrusted?" she asked.
"I don't want to fall off the threat radar altogether, no."
Terrell's a trouper. Loyal to the point of blindness, but a trouper. "Maybe it's just that you exude so much integrity, you inspire that sort of trust."
"But I'm a dog."
"No you're not."
"Yes I am. A complete dog. A K-9 of major proportions. Canis Maximus. Woof."
"Oh please."
And then I started rattling off my considerable pooch credentials, and somewhere along the line she stopped defending me. So at least I'm on her radar now. Yay, I "win."
One week later, I'm on the same topic with Courtney. Instead of arguing that I'm a good person who inspires trust, she tries the opposite tactic. "Well, you'll notice that I've never invited myself over," she snarked in a tone appropriate only if she thinks I have a Jamie Gumm–style pit in my basement.
Splendid. I "win" again.
You wouldn't think that the same person could be made to feel worse by both of these approaches. You would be wrong.