Dog Eat Dog*

“A cynical person has a bleak outlook about others, always imagining that people are ruled by their worst instincts.” [https://www.vocabulary.com/dictionary/cynical]

1. ADJECTIVE

If you describe someone as cynical, you mean they believe that people always act selfishly.

Synonyms: sceptical, mocking, ironic, sneering 

2. ADJECTIVE

If you are cynical about something, you do not believe that it can be successful or that the people involved are honest.

Synonyms: unbelieving, sceptical, disillusioned, pessimistic 

[https://www.collinsdictionary.com/us/dictionary/english/cynical]

I think it’s important to come to an agreement on what being a cynical person means. I’ve been called cynical, for example, and disagree completely with the people who gave me that label unfairly. Worse than being in disagreement, my feelings are hurt by the ones who call me that. However, I thought that, just to be fair, I’d look up the definition of the word, which is an adjective, so it would be clearer to me why some of those who know me see me that way. I decided to go with vocabulary.com and Collins.

As I look over the definitions, especially the synonyms, I firmly deny being mocking or sneering. I just don’t enjoy making fun of other people. Surely nobody thinks I’m cynical for those reasons, which leaves sceptical (which I’m going to spell with a k because it’s the custom here), ironic, unbelieving, disillusioned, pessimistic. These terms merit consideration. First, ironic can be interesting, funny, literary even. Authors use irony all the time; it’s a valuable tool for expressing ideas. So yes, I’ll accept that I speak ironically at times. Ironic language, which I like and would use a lot if I were a writer, usually means the opposite of what you’re saying, and can be humorous as a result.

Now unbelieving confuses me. Maybe it’s like distrustful? I see myself as neither pessimistic nor optimistic, but simply realistic. I do admit to not being able to trust a lot of people, as a result of past experiences. No need to go into detail, but some people in the past were not very nice to me and after I got burned, I tried to be more careful. I don’t just believe everything I’m told. Disillusioned is a mindset you often acquire gradually over a period of time. Yes, I feel a lot of disillusion with politicians everywhere in the world because they lie and steal. They should be honest and work for the people who elected them, not fight like cats and dogs.

So if I believe people are often not very nice, it’s because they’ve shown me how hurtful they can be. They play jokes on others, talk about them behind their backs; things like that. Animals are different, and safer, as companions. Maybe my being disillusioned is what keeps me from being invited out, like to a party or a movie. I don’t get asked to join local groups like the volunteers at the community garden or a book club at the town library. I think some people feel sorry for me, though, and maybe they’re the ones who aren’t all bad. 

Oh, what does it matter? I’m better off by myself. I don’t need other people, don’t need to be asked out. Let them pity me if they want…

[Looks at apartment door and sees an envelope slide under it. Odd. Everybody uses the internet or at least a phone nowadays to contact others.]

An envelope? This looks like a scene from a black and white noir movie. It’s addressed to me. Clearly they’re playing games with me, making fun of me. What other reason would they have? They don’t think I saw them staring at me and making gestures - but at least not smirking - when I left the meeting. Well, that doesn’t matter. More than one can play this game…

[Rips manila office envelope open and sees it’s an invitation, or notification. Also odd.]

[Reads.]

“We’ve arranged a blind date for you with someone you’ll really like. You’re to meet in the square downtown at six o’clock. You can decide where you want to go, what you want to do. It’s your decision. And by your we mean you, not you and the date. It’s all up to you. We hope you have a wonderful time, because you seem to have been a bit down recently. Signed, Your Friends.”

They must not know I saw them ogling at me, twittering about my appearance or life style, my love of reading. This isn’t very nice of them, but maybe I’ll just call their bluff and go. No need to stand in the spot they’ve chosen and look stupid, but I’ll go to show them I won’t be laughed at.

Maybe I’ll take along something to occupy my hands, look like I’m just passing by, not going on a blind date. (Does anybody go on dates anymore? Do blind dates exist nowadays?) Actually, my phone’s good enough. I can be checking e mail or watching a youtube video and look sideways as I go by, then keep going. 

[The arranged time comes and she has stopped a few feet away to finish reading her screen.]

Well, this is a coincidence. I’m scrolling through a random poetry site and Erica Jong’s name comes up. She isn’t exactly my go-to poet, but there’s a poem of hers I rather like because, well, it is quite cynical. The part I like most are the verses:

Even when you arrived,

I tried to beat you

away with my sadness,

my cynical seductions,

and my trick of

turning a slave

into a master.

And all because

you made

my fingertips ache

and my eyes cross

in passion

that did not know its own name.

Bear, beast, lover

of the book of my body,

you turned my pages

and discovered

what was there

to be written

on the other side

Because too often there’s no difference between a bear and a beast and a lover, of course. Humans are animals and are often beasts. The bad kind. So many are potential sources of physical and emotional harm, much more so than bears. Anyway, this is all moot, because the supposed blind date was a farce, a practical and mean joke. There’s nobody here except…

[sees a package wrapped brown paper and makes out her own name scribbled on it]

[Reads.]

“This is the only date you’ll ever go on. Enjoy.”

I knew it. I knew it all along. People are so mean. Well, let’s see what’s in the package…

Books? Three of them, ones I’ve read and reread. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, Possession by A.S. Byatt, Louise Erdrich’s The Sentence. I could spend hours discussing all of them if I could find someone who knows these novels. Or perhaps I’ll just take them home with me, make supper and have a nice glass of wine. Then we’ll get into bed and read. 

[She does exactly that. She can’t finish three novels in a single night, but she leafs through each book, feeling the texture and design of each cover, noticing the font, the number if pages, and rereading remembered passages. Each book in turn wraps her in its words, its pages like myriad embraces. Grateful for the sheer pleasure of their intimacy, she kisses each cover and, slightly embarrassed, murmurs a little thank you. She has found once more the connections, the ethical questions, the desire, generosity, sense of justice, roots - things of value. She takes each of these in with her eyes and holds their pages like she would hold joy if it were an object. She doesn’t see why some people had felt the need to arrange a fake blind date, but decides their motivation is of little consequence.]

This is the best blind date ever. 

*Note on title: 

The word cynic has the same root as dog (cf. canine) in Ancient Greek. Diogenes (a famous cynic from 400-something BC) was called the "Dog" for uncertain reasons. He stated that "other dogs bite their enemies, but I bite my friends to save them."