As I grew up I believed everyone thought I was a cunt.
Well, actually I didn’t know that word when I was little so it could go from “horrid” to “a fucking bastard” to “a cunt”, depending on how old I was at the time.
This comes from a mixture of being told that some of the loathsome slugs my mother hung around with were nothing but Gandhi reincarnate and any negative emotions they displayed towards me were my fault alone. One particularly egregious example is the racist yet saucy plumber we used to hire who would have my old dear in fits of giggles with his witty stories. These invariably involved him humiliating or taking the piss out of other people or racially insulting anyone who wasn’t also a fuck witted, white Englishman with a mullet. To this day I wish I’d had the courage to cave his head in with a piece of guttering, but life is full of unfulfilled desires.
As a kid I believed that anyone’s automatic reaction to meeting me would be utter and complete dislike and I had to prove them wrong. On a very basic level, I was NOT NICE and if someone did like me then sooner or later they would see through my tissue thin façade and realise “yep, he’s a cunt!”
Problem was I didn’t actually KNOW I believed this. I just thought that was the way the world was.
It was only quite recently that I twigged, mainly due to a mixture of beta blockers and heavy drinking.
Beta blockers are wonderful things in that just by slowing your heart rate they can reduce anxiety and force the perspective that, “Hey! Life’s great. No one gives a shit about you or your problems. Now go out there and watch the sunrise!!!”
Heavy drinking however can result in the alcohol induced belief that everyone and their aunty thinks you’re a cunt and are probably Tweeting their friends around the world to tell them just how much of a cunt you are. On holiday in the last 2 weeks I met some of the most wonderful, friendly and lovely people I could ever meet. Yet I still woke up at , dehydrated to fuck from too many Tequila shots the night before, cramping in every major muscle group and thinking “they all think I’m a cunt!”
I then started taking 20mg of Propranolol instead of 10. Result, alcohol still made me dance oddly, slur, stagger home and wake up hungover but now I realised that everyone’s default reaction to meeting me was not “hateful little cunt” but either:
Indifference or friendliness.
If only all of life’s mysteries were so easy to solve.