We've Known Each Other For So Long, Your Heart's Been Aching, But You're Too Shy To Say It, Inside We Both Know What's Been Going On
--"Never Gonna Give You Up", Rick Astley
Recently Breanne told me about this great scam that made its way through the Internet called Rickrolling. According to Wikipedia it is:
I've never been lucky enough to be "Rick Rolled" myself, but, if I had, I probably would have though it was hilarious. Not only am I fan of the song, but I'm always receptive to a well thought-out and executed practical joke. I've detailed many here myself--some light and corny, and some bordering on mean and vindictive. Usually the line between the two of those genres is arbitrarily decided by me right before it's pulled, but at heart I think they've all been funny. I can't tell you how many times I've recounted a story to a co-worker or a friend where they've thrown me this look like "You did what?" To me, every anecdote I tell involving a practical joke should be seen with a somewhat humorous light, but sometimes you really can't tell where somebody's sensitivities lie. With some people my story about trapping my Scoutmaster's brother in the latrine is hilarious, while I've had other people blanche upon recounting my story of tying my brother up with rope and leaving him struggling to break free for over an hour (or was it three? LOL). With something like this video, though, I don't think there's any wiggle room for mean-spiritedness; at its heart something like this is just plain silly humor.
My point is that it's very difficult to find somebody with exactly the same type of humor and when you do that you recognize it right away. In fact, I would go so far as to say that sharing a particular sense of humor is far more indicative of compatibility between two individuals than what kind of music or films the two of you like.
----
In the first few months of getting to know Breanne I had discovered that she liked to jog (or run away as most people called it), but the extent to which she enjoyed was always up for debate. I mean--everybody says they like doing something, but that can range from a passing interest to being a full-fledged devotee. She was always joking how fast she was, how durable she was, and how running to her was life. We always joked it off, but I came with the impression that there was more to this running thing than she was letting on. Perhaps the gal had more of a penchant for it than she was letting on. Thus, when she made the following announcement during one of our casual phone conversations, I was completely undecided as to how to take it.
"I actually finished twenty-third last year in the Junior's Nine Through Twelve Division in the local half-marathon, sugar," she said matter-of-factly. "I should have finished higher, but, wouldn't you know it, I cramped up in the last half mile."
What was going through my head at the time she was saying this was disbelief that anyone would willingly run thirteen or so miles for fun. Not one iota of my mind was thinking I was being played.
That's always been Breanne's schtick. She plays this innocent young thing, making her voice all sweet and airy, acting naive and such, but in truth she's as wicked as they come. However, doing those first few months I was barely figuring all this out. I was kind of drawn to her because I felt like there was so much I had to teach her about the world. There I was, thinking I was all that and a bag of chips, attempting to pass along all this knowledge to who I thought was going to be a protege, and she was actually more world wise than she let on. I don't know if it was her upbringing, her attempt to remain gentile and polite (showing one's friend up I think is definitely a sign of arrogance), or if she relishes the notion of dropping these huge bombs upon me and the rest of the world. In fact, I think it has more to do with the latter than the former. If I were in her position and had all these secret talents and accomplishments, I think I would wait too before showing my head. It's just much more fun that way.
"Twenty-third isn't half bad. Did they give you some kind of medal?"
"No medal, but you can see my name up in the official records. I'll send you the link to the site when I find it."
"That's amazing, Breanne. Go you."
"Hell's bells, it wasn't anything. I like running, you know?"
Nominally, this would have been a good place to spill the beans because she didn't have much to gain by elaborating on the story. She's always been a creature after my own heart, however, so she took the opportunity to take the little game out to its complete fruition.
"I'm thinking of running this year too. It won't be for the Juniors since I'm already thirteen, but I want to give it another try."
"Really?"
"Yeah, but this year I'm going for the full marathon. No more ponies for this gal, this year I'm going for riding the bull."
"You can't be serious," I said incredulously.
Her laugh shook me off.
I should have known right then and there that was she playing with me. I mean--who ever heard of somebody barely in high school attempting their first marathon, especially someone who admittedly mostly ran on a lark and had no serious training. It was a testament to the conviction in her voice and the trust I had placed in her that I bought her story lock, stock, and barrel. At that point in our friendship, without knowing when and how she liked to joke around, I was prepared to believe she was capable of anything. She certainly had that aura about her that bespoke a can't be stopped attitude. At that point, if she told me she was a marathon runner, I would have thought she was a marathon runner. If she told me she was a Martian princess, I probably would have asked her what her kingdom was like. That's how convincing she portrayed herself as.
I've often wondered if I wanted to believe her if only because I did find her so fascinating. Maybe there was a part of me that wanted to celebrate the extraordinary, that didn't want to believe she was just like me. Or maybe I was completely smitten with the girl and was prepared to follow whatever trail she was laying down for me.
"I think I am. Can you imagine it, Patrick? Me finishing a marathon. That'd be incredible."
"It certainly would be. It might even be something I'd consider flying over to see."
"Of course you'd be invited. You'd have to see me win."
"Win, huh? Somebody thinks highly of their chances, doesn't she?"
"Maybe not win, but finishing would be a fine achievement, especially at my age, darling."
When I tell a lie, there's one basic rule I follow--let the other person dictate where the lie is going. By how a person answers you can often tell which parts he or she is buying and which parts you're losing them at. If you go back to the well regarding the parts you can tell he or she has already believed, you're one step closer to concocting a more and more believable story. Breanne instinctively knew this too because I think at this point she was about to tell me that she had a good chance of winning. When she heard the disbelief in my voice, she correctly backed off that aspect and downplayed it to something I could once again follow.
"Your age? It's an accomplishment at any age. Do you know how many people go their whole lives without finishing a marathon?"
"Lots and lots."
"That's right. I think you should do it if only so I can say I knew a gal who finished a marathon before she was out of her training bra," I laughed.
"Is that so? You'd coast on my laurels?"
"Hey, if you can't do it yourself, find someone who can and befriend them. Knowing someone who ran a marathon is just as good as running it yourself, I say."
As aforementioned, we may not have the same personality quirks in a lot of areas, but when it comes to sense of humor or causing mischief I think the two of us are dead-on. Aside from this love of practical jokes, we like to embellish our stories in the same areas and in the same manner. Basically, we like to build a story from scratch and push it as far as we can take till the person has no choice but to call our bluff.
She's always been good at that.
I can't speak for her, but I think we're both yarn spinners at heart. You can see that much in how easily she whips up her ghost stories, her "explanations" when she got in trouble with her folks, and how quick she is in our routine conversations. There's a wit to her that is literally matchless. And me, I've always fancied myself as somewhat imaginative and somewhat prone to the fanciful. I believe that's where we meet in the middle, in that area of storytelling reserved for unapologetic liars, cheats, and swindlers. There's a desire in both of us to not only tell a story for its own sake, but to somewhat pull the wool over the audience's eyes, even if that audience happens to be one of our dearest friends. There's a sense of competition there, between storyteller and storytold, hunter and hunted. We're trying to enact a plan whereby the other party has no idea of what he or she is being led to believe. Then, when the tables are flipped and the truth is revealed, we live for that "aha" moment when the other person slowly realizes just how badly they had been fooled. That's our payoff. That's our reward.
It's even worse between us now. We've known each other for so long and swapped so many stories, there's almost a perverse desire to really humiliate one another with the lies we tell. When I realize she's bit into a story I fabricated I thought she would never fall for, the timer starts and I begin to whip it up into a masterpiece. Those chances are so rare now that I really think I've got to make the most of each and every one of them. In my head, I'm thinking "I've got to fool her as bad as she fooled with that blasted Marathon Story."
When our conversation came to its inevitable close a few minutes later, Breanne didn't waste any time in letting me see behind the curtain.
"Well, it's been a hoot-and-a-half, sugar, but I think I should let you in on a little secret."
"What's that?"
"I've never run a marathon, half or otherwise. I was only fibbing you. But you certainly bit down on it hard. I was thinking you were going to break your teeth on that one," she laughed.
"Really? All that talk about how you were going to train for this long each day, that was all nonsense?"
"Yes. Sorry. It was--you were so taken with the idea of me being this great and all-powerful runner and all. Well, who was to dispel your dream, you know?"
"I can't believe you did that to me. You're so mean."
Luckily for her, I did appreciate the value of a good whopper of a fish tale. Otherwise, I might have really been angered that I'd spent the last forty minutes discussing her prowess as a runner. Some might have seen it as a complete waste of time. Me? I took it as an afternoon spent getting to know her better. I knew something about her, that she liked to shuck and jive just like me, that I didn't know before. Any time you can do that, in my book, is a productive outing.
I didn't like being fooled by her. I didn't enjoy the weeks of joshing I took from her after that little chat. But I think something changed between us that afternoon. Once she found out I could take a joke, it made it easier to joke in that manner from that point on. Moreover, it became easier to let on other things that we'd been keeping to ourselves. In a way, getting completely fooled like that allowed the friendship to blossom to a point where I don't think it was headed before. It's liberating to find out that you can humiliate someone, even if only slightly, and they still want to be there for you. It clues you in to just how devoted they are to you. It's one of those things that any great friendship goes through--testing out the mettle of the connection. Anyone can say they like you when you're flattering them. It's another thing entirely when you're basically calling them gullible and stupid to their face.
If you can say words like that to someone... it makes for saying some more delicate and intimate words later on all the more easier. Humor and love are connected in that strange way, with poking fun at someone and revealing your deepest feelings about that person often being interwoven like that. One hand washes the other, as they say.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
Recently Breanne told me about this great scam that made its way through the Internet called Rickrolling. According to Wikipedia it is:a prank and Internet meme involving the music video for the 1987 Rick Astley song "Never Gonna Give You Up" written and produced by Mike Stock, Matt Aitken, and Pete Waterman known as Stock Aitken Waterman. The meme is a classic bait and switch: a person provides a link they claim is relevant to the topic at hand, but the link actually takes the user to the Astley video.
I've never been lucky enough to be "Rick Rolled" myself, but, if I had, I probably would have though it was hilarious. Not only am I fan of the song, but I'm always receptive to a well thought-out and executed practical joke. I've detailed many here myself--some light and corny, and some bordering on mean and vindictive. Usually the line between the two of those genres is arbitrarily decided by me right before it's pulled, but at heart I think they've all been funny. I can't tell you how many times I've recounted a story to a co-worker or a friend where they've thrown me this look like "You did what?" To me, every anecdote I tell involving a practical joke should be seen with a somewhat humorous light, but sometimes you really can't tell where somebody's sensitivities lie. With some people my story about trapping my Scoutmaster's brother in the latrine is hilarious, while I've had other people blanche upon recounting my story of tying my brother up with rope and leaving him struggling to break free for over an hour (or was it three? LOL). With something like this video, though, I don't think there's any wiggle room for mean-spiritedness; at its heart something like this is just plain silly humor.
My point is that it's very difficult to find somebody with exactly the same type of humor and when you do that you recognize it right away. In fact, I would go so far as to say that sharing a particular sense of humor is far more indicative of compatibility between two individuals than what kind of music or films the two of you like.
----
In the first few months of getting to know Breanne I had discovered that she liked to jog (or run away as most people called it), but the extent to which she enjoyed was always up for debate. I mean--everybody says they like doing something, but that can range from a passing interest to being a full-fledged devotee. She was always joking how fast she was, how durable she was, and how running to her was life. We always joked it off, but I came with the impression that there was more to this running thing than she was letting on. Perhaps the gal had more of a penchant for it than she was letting on. Thus, when she made the following announcement during one of our casual phone conversations, I was completely undecided as to how to take it.
"I actually finished twenty-third last year in the Junior's Nine Through Twelve Division in the local half-marathon, sugar," she said matter-of-factly. "I should have finished higher, but, wouldn't you know it, I cramped up in the last half mile."
What was going through my head at the time she was saying this was disbelief that anyone would willingly run thirteen or so miles for fun. Not one iota of my mind was thinking I was being played.
That's always been Breanne's schtick. She plays this innocent young thing, making her voice all sweet and airy, acting naive and such, but in truth she's as wicked as they come. However, doing those first few months I was barely figuring all this out. I was kind of drawn to her because I felt like there was so much I had to teach her about the world. There I was, thinking I was all that and a bag of chips, attempting to pass along all this knowledge to who I thought was going to be a protege, and she was actually more world wise than she let on. I don't know if it was her upbringing, her attempt to remain gentile and polite (showing one's friend up I think is definitely a sign of arrogance), or if she relishes the notion of dropping these huge bombs upon me and the rest of the world. In fact, I think it has more to do with the latter than the former. If I were in her position and had all these secret talents and accomplishments, I think I would wait too before showing my head. It's just much more fun that way.
"Twenty-third isn't half bad. Did they give you some kind of medal?"
"No medal, but you can see my name up in the official records. I'll send you the link to the site when I find it."
"That's amazing, Breanne. Go you."
"Hell's bells, it wasn't anything. I like running, you know?"
Nominally, this would have been a good place to spill the beans because she didn't have much to gain by elaborating on the story. She's always been a creature after my own heart, however, so she took the opportunity to take the little game out to its complete fruition.
"I'm thinking of running this year too. It won't be for the Juniors since I'm already thirteen, but I want to give it another try."
"Really?"
"Yeah, but this year I'm going for the full marathon. No more ponies for this gal, this year I'm going for riding the bull."
"You can't be serious," I said incredulously.
Her laugh shook me off.
I should have known right then and there that was she playing with me. I mean--who ever heard of somebody barely in high school attempting their first marathon, especially someone who admittedly mostly ran on a lark and had no serious training. It was a testament to the conviction in her voice and the trust I had placed in her that I bought her story lock, stock, and barrel. At that point in our friendship, without knowing when and how she liked to joke around, I was prepared to believe she was capable of anything. She certainly had that aura about her that bespoke a can't be stopped attitude. At that point, if she told me she was a marathon runner, I would have thought she was a marathon runner. If she told me she was a Martian princess, I probably would have asked her what her kingdom was like. That's how convincing she portrayed herself as.
I've often wondered if I wanted to believe her if only because I did find her so fascinating. Maybe there was a part of me that wanted to celebrate the extraordinary, that didn't want to believe she was just like me. Or maybe I was completely smitten with the girl and was prepared to follow whatever trail she was laying down for me.
"I think I am. Can you imagine it, Patrick? Me finishing a marathon. That'd be incredible."
"It certainly would be. It might even be something I'd consider flying over to see."
"Of course you'd be invited. You'd have to see me win."
"Win, huh? Somebody thinks highly of their chances, doesn't she?"
"Maybe not win, but finishing would be a fine achievement, especially at my age, darling."
When I tell a lie, there's one basic rule I follow--let the other person dictate where the lie is going. By how a person answers you can often tell which parts he or she is buying and which parts you're losing them at. If you go back to the well regarding the parts you can tell he or she has already believed, you're one step closer to concocting a more and more believable story. Breanne instinctively knew this too because I think at this point she was about to tell me that she had a good chance of winning. When she heard the disbelief in my voice, she correctly backed off that aspect and downplayed it to something I could once again follow.
"Your age? It's an accomplishment at any age. Do you know how many people go their whole lives without finishing a marathon?"
"Lots and lots."
"That's right. I think you should do it if only so I can say I knew a gal who finished a marathon before she was out of her training bra," I laughed.
"Is that so? You'd coast on my laurels?"
"Hey, if you can't do it yourself, find someone who can and befriend them. Knowing someone who ran a marathon is just as good as running it yourself, I say."
As aforementioned, we may not have the same personality quirks in a lot of areas, but when it comes to sense of humor or causing mischief I think the two of us are dead-on. Aside from this love of practical jokes, we like to embellish our stories in the same areas and in the same manner. Basically, we like to build a story from scratch and push it as far as we can take till the person has no choice but to call our bluff.
She's always been good at that.
I can't speak for her, but I think we're both yarn spinners at heart. You can see that much in how easily she whips up her ghost stories, her "explanations" when she got in trouble with her folks, and how quick she is in our routine conversations. There's a wit to her that is literally matchless. And me, I've always fancied myself as somewhat imaginative and somewhat prone to the fanciful. I believe that's where we meet in the middle, in that area of storytelling reserved for unapologetic liars, cheats, and swindlers. There's a desire in both of us to not only tell a story for its own sake, but to somewhat pull the wool over the audience's eyes, even if that audience happens to be one of our dearest friends. There's a sense of competition there, between storyteller and storytold, hunter and hunted. We're trying to enact a plan whereby the other party has no idea of what he or she is being led to believe. Then, when the tables are flipped and the truth is revealed, we live for that "aha" moment when the other person slowly realizes just how badly they had been fooled. That's our payoff. That's our reward.
It's even worse between us now. We've known each other for so long and swapped so many stories, there's almost a perverse desire to really humiliate one another with the lies we tell. When I realize she's bit into a story I fabricated I thought she would never fall for, the timer starts and I begin to whip it up into a masterpiece. Those chances are so rare now that I really think I've got to make the most of each and every one of them. In my head, I'm thinking "I've got to fool her as bad as she fooled with that blasted Marathon Story."
When our conversation came to its inevitable close a few minutes later, Breanne didn't waste any time in letting me see behind the curtain.
"Well, it's been a hoot-and-a-half, sugar, but I think I should let you in on a little secret."
"What's that?"
"I've never run a marathon, half or otherwise. I was only fibbing you. But you certainly bit down on it hard. I was thinking you were going to break your teeth on that one," she laughed.
"Really? All that talk about how you were going to train for this long each day, that was all nonsense?"
"Yes. Sorry. It was--you were so taken with the idea of me being this great and all-powerful runner and all. Well, who was to dispel your dream, you know?"
"I can't believe you did that to me. You're so mean."
Luckily for her, I did appreciate the value of a good whopper of a fish tale. Otherwise, I might have really been angered that I'd spent the last forty minutes discussing her prowess as a runner. Some might have seen it as a complete waste of time. Me? I took it as an afternoon spent getting to know her better. I knew something about her, that she liked to shuck and jive just like me, that I didn't know before. Any time you can do that, in my book, is a productive outing.
I didn't like being fooled by her. I didn't enjoy the weeks of joshing I took from her after that little chat. But I think something changed between us that afternoon. Once she found out I could take a joke, it made it easier to joke in that manner from that point on. Moreover, it became easier to let on other things that we'd been keeping to ourselves. In a way, getting completely fooled like that allowed the friendship to blossom to a point where I don't think it was headed before. It's liberating to find out that you can humiliate someone, even if only slightly, and they still want to be there for you. It clues you in to just how devoted they are to you. It's one of those things that any great friendship goes through--testing out the mettle of the connection. Anyone can say they like you when you're flattering them. It's another thing entirely when you're basically calling them gullible and stupid to their face.
If you can say words like that to someone... it makes for saying some more delicate and intimate words later on all the more easier. Humor and love are connected in that strange way, with poking fun at someone and revealing your deepest feelings about that person often being interwoven like that. One hand washes the other, as they say.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
Labels: Breanne, deception, practical jokes, Rick Astley, trust
posted by mojo shivers @ 7:37 PM
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