Since moving to the American South I’ve had to come up with a variety of strategies for dealing with blowhards. I was standing in line for gas at Costco this weekend and a guy was complaining about the cost.
“But I don’t mind,” he said. “We’ve all got to pay more for gas because it’s what it takes to deal with these Iranians.”
And he’s yelling so everyone on the six gas pumps can hear. Nobody says a word. In New York, I’d have yelled back at him but as my wife tells me often, “here in Virginia, people have guns.”
So, I swallowed it. As I drove home I congratulated myself for keeping calm and letting the blowhard have his day. It still sticks in my craw that I let him get away with it, but that’s the price I pay for staying out of danger down here. I guess?
Still, what’s the goal of that man’s communication, do you think? I mean, it was annoying. It made me want to yell back at him. I had to use energy to keep quiet. Was that his goal? To ruin my day? I doubt he was even aware that I existed.
Here’s the thing: Blowhards don’t have a goal. They don’t think about anyone but themselves. They’re blowhards. This guy wants to feel like a big man for whatever reason, so he yells stupid stuff a lot. That’s it. Poor guy. I mean, I pity him. Next.
Speaking of blowhards. A good friend of mine recently told our WhatsApp group he “doesn’t believe in voting.” I’m afraid I did clap back, but it was a waste of energy. He dug in more and wants to make a thing out of it, now. He even messaged me off the chat and asked if I was “alright.”
I told him I was fine but that we’d have to disagree about the voting thing. He tried to explain himself again and I repeated myself. End of. Sorry mate but you’re wasting my energy. I’m going through a blowhard-related grief process over our friendship. But it turns out I’m already at the acceptance stage.
And there are blowhards, strange though it may seem, on both sides of the political spectrum. There’s one guy I know who loves to have a rant about how terrible Donald Trump is. Not because he’s seeking to change my mind — I happen to agree with him. But because he wants to let off steam. Like, sure, buddy. But all you’re doing is riling yourself up and making me feel bad.
I took him to task recently. “When I start a conversation, I usually think about the other person,” I said. “I ask myself what might interest them, and I’ll try a few opening gambits to see what works. My goal, usually, is to make them feel better about life. Or to share a common interest.”
The blowhard looked at me like I was from Mars. I’d been wasting my breath, I realized.
Another guy I know down here recently told me he thought “rape is inevitable” when a guy is around a bunch of women. I said: “That’s ridiculous.” And his wife intervened. “Can we not?” she asked him. “I mean can we not? Please?”
Thanks, Mrs. Blowhard. The problem there is that now I have to know that he has that insane opinion every time we’re having a conversation. Oof.
Here’s the thing, blowhards: You’re costing yourself in friends. On the national scale we have a president who could be the loneliest person on earth. In cities across America there are blowhards of every different stripe. Even the Wall Street Journal says “Critical Ignoring” is the new survival skill.
All I ask is this: If you’re a mate of mine, please, don’t be a blowhard. Thanks. And if we’ve never met, then please, also, don’t become one. The guy at the gas pump might be sure he’s right but I’ll place my faith in the voting electorate at the midterms. Meantime I’m gonna open up the Headspace app and meditate for a bit, lest I become a blowhard about blowhards. Ommmmmm.
