I saw an old friend I hadn’t seen in a long time. I’d heard that numerous people had snubbed him over the years. I had a small grudge against him myself. But nothing insurmountable.
Let’s have coffee, I said.
We ordered coffee and muffins. We chatted. We reminisced. We laughed. We deconstructed the news. An hour flew by.
I gladly paid.
We shook hands.
It was great talking with you, he said.
I felt good and happy with the reconnection. A grudge buried. A fraught friendship reborn.
(Ain’t love a beautiful thing? It’s more than affection. It’s noticing and tending to the other. It’s mending wounds.)
I’d done good. I’d done a good thing. I felt an angel pat me on the back. I was walking on air.
Two hours later, I got an email from him:
l do not want your friendship anymore. Fifteen years ago your friends said hurtful things about me, and being with you brings that back. And please, no can-we-talk-it-out request. You’re good at dainty zingers.
(GULP.)
You’re good at dainty zingers.
WHAT?!
What do you call what you’re good at, buster? You just blew up a 20-year friendship over dainty zingers?! Dainty. Zingers. Really?! No wonder so many people despise you and your thin skin. It’s a good thing Jesus loves you because nobody else does. Rot in hell, you ungrateful piece of baloney.
I could have sent that wad of dainty zingers as my reply. But I didn’t. Instead, I replied:
Heard.
And let it go at that.
After all, he’s right. I do sting others with dainty zingers—unmaliciously perhaps, but still they can hurt. Dainty zingers add up and up and up and up until…well, until a friendship blows up.
My bad.
I confess.
I’m guilty.
In the wake of my old friend’s admonition, I resolved to sheath my zingers and never sling another, ever again. Never again.
I can do better.
I will do better.
I must do better.
Last week a new acquaintance introduced me to his wife. “I’d like you to meet my beautiful wife.”
I shook her hand and then looked at him: So she’s your beautiful wife? What’s your other one look like?
(OOPS.)
Can leopards change their spots?
Can zebras change their stripes?
Can people change their ways?
Wish me luck.
(And then duck.)
_______________________
See Paula’s photo on home page. Scroll down to “visual explorations.” Posted August 11, 2024
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This made me chuckle a bit. I think intentions matter and people matter. People who are potentially funny, as you are, who intend to be funny, should be given leeway with their zingers. Unfunny people, as many are, have different rules, and try to enforce those rules on the funnys, which is tragic. But also funny!
Right on!
Dainty zingers–Wow, what a great description of the discourse of our political, social and entertainment world. Only it’s not so dainty. Here’s hoping I wasn’t one of your friends who caused your old friend undue pain. And here’s hoping you continue to explore the mysteries of human nature. With your sense of humor.
I once heard an adage I will pass on to you, “ He who has stood behind doors looks behind doors.”
Keep zinging, Doc! It’s one of the many things I appreciate about you. You did your best; you tried; you gave it the good old one two combination. If this guy has no sense of humor and can’t laugh at himself then that’s his problem.
Sometimes it is difficult to be our funny, lighthearted selves without unintentionally wounding the tenderhearted. This is a nice reminder for me to eliminate my own dainty zingers.
I was raised in a house in which zingers requiring some intelligence and wordsmithing were valued. Like the Marx brothers, Dad would up and utter a zinger and we three females would look at him in horror. We prayed his recipient had a sense of humor. His famous one was greeting a lady coming into a dress party back in the 1950s. We were in Africa with Firestone. He greeted her profusely with “you look positively scrofulous tonight”. She tittered her appreciation. All I say is you got to know your audience!
From one zinger slinger to another, I understand.
I’m always trying to do better, with mixed results. It’s tough, our zingers are part of our personalities and why (some) people like us. I’m trying to sling the zingers more at me and less at others. Baby steps.
PS: I too hope I was not one of those friends who hurt your other friend. Yikes, we can be so hurtful without hurtful intentions. I’m thankfully for grace, forgiveness, and short memories.
Me, your sons, and the rest of the crew relish in hurling dainty zingers at each other! It’s all love in the end. Helps to build up that thin skin.
OK–at the risk of being and of uttering another zingy dingy–shall we all meet down by the river and have a fling?? Zingers Anonymous anyone?
Good story, and funny. Live and Let Live.
First, just want to say that I think you use rubber-tipped darts. I recognize that thin-skinned people may fall down in agony, anyway.
Second, I guess your ex-friend thinks that being disingenuine, lying, and false masks are somehow the stuff of harmonious, trustworthy relationships, because your sincere reengagement included all three on his part? Pull the log out buddy–I get up much more slowly after being struck with that artillery.
While observance of others’ sensitivity and tolerance capabilities is probably sound guidance, so are these words of reverence: What other people think of you is really none of your business, and the great Lao Tzu, with liberties, on your perfect response to this disguised zing-flinger: “Heard.” “I will keep silent until I can improve upon it.”
People who know and love you do not get confused! ❤️
It is helpful to remember that mindful speech is vital. Words matter, for they can hurt or heal. Before a conversation, Buddha invites us to raise three questions: Is it true? Is it necessary? Is it kind?
To be sure, all of us slip, whether it be “dainty zingers” or ego-centered exaggerations. Your succinct response of “Heard” was noble, as were your intentions of reconciliation. Your one-word response was a form of openness, a realization of the other person’s hurt and an exercise in “letting go.” As one of my graduate school Counseling Psychology professors told me: “Remember you won’t be able to reach everyone. Jesus could not reach Judas.“
I must drive 45 minutes (each way!) today to visit an old friend who not only is a mistress at the art of dainty zingers but who relishes them. It has gotten stale in our 40-year friendship and I would actually much rather stay home than make this forced march. I feel zero joy about seeing her. I’m the only friend she has left; at my last Christmas party she delivered so many dainty zingers that every single guest told me to please leave them off any invitee list she’s on in the future. They all long-ago stopped issuing her invitations to their own events. The last time I saw her, I’m ashamed to say I threw a few dainty zingers right back at her. Honestly, it’s tedious. But I’ve let her get away with it this long. So now I only see her about once every six months and even that is a real chore. I did our friendship a disservice by not taking a stand sooner in our relationship but now it seems too late. I suppose, depending upon the audience, dainty zingers can either be fun or hurtful. They can disguise anger as frivolity. They can be funny or they can drive a wedge between people. My friend thinks her dainty z’s are adorable. Her husband of 50 years who recently left her never did and he, too, never confronted her. Just put up with it for as long as he could, which it turns out was a pretty long time. I protected myself by putting lots of space and time in between us. I dread as well as resent every visit with her and I’m just as angry with myself as I am with her for not figuring out a way to be her friend without being a target. Dainty zingers, wielded by the wrong wit, can pack a bitter punch.
Zing on!
Here’s to smart ass friends!! Here’s to friendly bullshitters. Here’s to laughing at ourselves. Here’s to school gyms and black top playground basketball games and talking smack. In high school we all called my best friend forever Pig because his last name was Arnold as in the pig on Green Acres. For some of us, zingers are how we express comfortable affection for other men. “Gimme the Rock. I’m taking his slow ass to the hoop.”
As an afterthought to my initial reactive response due to the incredible timing of your post, perhaps there are different categories of dainty zingers and my friend’s fall to the dagger side.
I like Reverend/Doctor Randy Tremba just the way he is, dainty zingers and all!! That’s part of what makes him the Rev and a Shepherdstown (god I hate this word) icon. Wife and I were married by Randy thirty plus years ago. We had to attend a few counseling sessions. Neither of us being particularly religious (especially organized religion!), we went through the motions in order to get married, never attending services. Around this time, we we are a social function and Randy introduced us to another couple. Tell me this doesn’t sound like Randy and dainty zingers! He said, “This is Gayle and Bill Cromwell, pillars of the church — (the pause of a comedian)– Very small pillars.” I’ve never forgotten it! Don’t change a thing, Captain Tremba (our private nickname for the Rev). You’re good just the way you are. To hell with your lunch companion!
Self reflection is worthy work! Mindfulness is dainty work.
I strive for a sense of humor, & it has helped thicken my skin over the years. Truly accepting people as they are, and choosing who to interact with & how is a choice.
I, too, love you just the way you are Randy! Keep on keep in’ on… you’re a treasure in this world!
Doin’ our best in Shepherdstown; which is the kindest place I’ve ever known.
It’s the gratuitously mean & intentional daggers that I avoid… thankfully few & far between (except politically – I steer clear of those as well).
Thank you for your openness, honesty, & lite heart in a sometimes dark journey.
With zingers, as with most off-the-cuff quips and chat, it’s what I say and how I say it to whom I say it that matters. There’s a certain lawyer in town that, without zingers we’d have little to connect and engage. But no way would I engage in such banter with my kids, if we’re to oponly communicate.
Too funny! And Boy! did I need that laugh after torching my Trump-loving, Walz-hating baby brother. Thanks for the lovely zingers.
Perhaps it was something in the Youngstown water or with carrying the weight of the name Randy, but I share the vice. The standard to which we need to aspire with our “humor” is never to punch down.
In no particular order:
“Be a goldfish.” Ted Lasso
“Forgive, but don’t forget.” Randy Tremba
“Tell ‘em cabbage! You got the head for it!” A close relative
I smile because of your writings. (Note: I see you = myself in them.)
Dainty Zingers! I thought that is what Jesus used when he was in the complex world of money changers, Roman soldiers, collaborators, and law followers. Have I got it all wrong? If we are to follow Jesus then should we think about teaching and modeling? “Proceed until apprehended” is what one of my friends always says. Simi Valley, CA
Oh, come on Randy, you are a wit, that’s all! You like to play with words, that’s all! You don’t need to change your spots or your stripes.