Sans Fig Leaf

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"I used to care, but…"

3 April, 2003

Sometimes, you just can't win.

I'm a member of a group which has been hosting a monthly writer's meeting consistently for eight years. The purpose of the meeting to to motivate some of us to write regularly, and give us a forum to receive constructive feedback. The group is associated with a literary society that publishes an amateur magazine three times per year. The literary society is a not-for-profit corporation with a mission that includes fostering creative skills. For a while, we advertised the monthly get together through various local "fan forums," so that people who might be interested in a place to bring their writing and improve their skills could drop in and see if we meshed.

In response to one of our announcements, I received an e-mail complaining about the fact that our meetings were always held in the Seattle area, usually at my place, though occasionally other members of the regular group took a turn hosting. This person wanted to know why we never hosted a meeting near where he lived -- which was in a small town about a three-hour drive from Seattle.

I politely replied that the meeting is hosted by volunteers in their homes, and so where we met was dictated by where we lived. I suggested that if he were interested in participating in such a group, but was unable to make the trip to Seattle, there was no reason he couldn't organize his own get-together at his place and invite people who lived within convenient driving distance.

His incensed reply quite took me aback. He explained that he didn't have time to organize any get-togethers, and even if he did, he didn't think it was at all reasonable to expect him to invite strangers into his home. When he had complained about the location of the meetings, he meant that we should look into finding a space near his home in which we could host our meetings so he could attend. Why did we even bother to announce these things if we weren't going to make minimal effort to accomodate people who didn't live nearby? Why should he have to organize something for himself when other people were already organizing things?

Though that sheer level of self-centeredness and entitlement contained in those statements was stunning enough, it wasn't the half of it. He had more to say.

We were obviously just a big, selfish clique that didn't care about anyone else's needs. "You're all out to rub everyone else's noses in their loneliness!"

Fortunately this whole exchange occured in e-mail, because if it had happened at a convention or otherwise in person, my outburst of laughter would have just made the situation worse. What's saddest about this incident is that it wasn't the first time someone had made such a complaint or request, and it was far from the last.

As the incidents mounted up over time, I began to have serious doubts about the future of the human race, or at least civil society. It's one thing when someone has no qualms about making ludicrous demands upon others. It's another altogether when it becomes apparent that many people believe the only reasons those demands aren't granted is out of maliciousness.

It was no fun to be accused of being cold and callous. Particularly when I understood so very well what it's like to be the outsider. I hated the feeling of being excluded and unwelcome.

I hated the feeling so much that I would feel horribly guilty if anyone suggested that I was being less than welcoming. So I would take action to remedy the situation, whether the action was really reasonable or not. I didn't realize that by doing that I was sometimes enabling irresponsible behavior.

There's a fine line between reasonably foreseeable consequences and unforeseen ones. In some cases it's easy to see. No reasonable person would assume that an announcement of a social event in someone's private home obligated the host to go to great trouble and expense to make it more convenient for a complete stranger to drop in, for example. So, no matter how deep the stranger's pain, no matter how intense his feeling of rejection may be, those feelings are his responsibility, and his alone.

If I do something that a reasonable person would expect to cause hurt feelings, I am responsible for the consequences. Sometimes I have to apologize and try to make it up to the other person or at least try to avoid doing it again. But there are times where, though I'm sorry that feelings had to be hurt, I have to ackowledge I would do it again if I were placed in the same situation. I would do it again because it was the right thing to do.

Sometimes you have to tell someone "no."

I'm able to do that with a clear conscience not because I don't care at all, but because I do care, but I've learned to pick the things that matter the most, to me and those I love.

So, I do care about the people who are wallowing in self-destructive behavior, but I care more about the innocent bystanders they're liable to drag down than I do about their feelings. And I hold onto the hope that if enough of us stop enabling them, that maybe, just maybe, they might start growing up.

I know it's possible, because I did it.