Hypocrisy Makes Me A Better Man

How does hypocrisy make me a better man? How does me being a hypocrite help define who I am? Let me tell you a story: Once upon a time (around three weeks ago), I met a girl. She was pretty, fun, and crazy. One day, I stayed over at her apartment. As I was taking my junk out of my pants for the night (cell phone and keys, not other junk, pervert), I looked in my wallet and frowned at the $31 bucks left. Jump to the following morning, I was putting all my junk back into my pants, when I checked my wallet again. I don’t know why I do this so often, but I think it’s a genetic trait my father passed on to me. Lo and behold, I had now only $21 bucks left. I didn’t think anything of this at the time, other than I must have been mistaken in my calculations the previous night.

Fast forward three more days, this wonderful girl comes spends the night. She, my brother, my roommate, and I went to the corner store to buy some groceries. The total came out to $100 dollars. I had fifty on me, and my roommate, Reni, had eighty. I paid half of the bill, which left me broke, and left Reni with $30 bucks. The next morning, my female friend woke up before anyone else. When Reni woke up a while later, only $10 was left. She told me about this, but she is very reasonable, and didn’t jump to conclusions, probably due to the fact that I didn’t tell her about the previous incident.

Three more nights later, our pretty little suspect stays the night again. By then, I already forgot the prior incidents, marking them as coincidences. I had been playing with her iPod Touch a lot lately, and she could tell that I enjoyed it. She brought me a second iPod Touch that she owned, to my surprise, and told me to keep it. I now really got suspicious, especially when the iPod seemed to be registered to another girl whom I just met, her brother’s fiancée. I tried to not accept it, but gave in. That night, our heroine became a little intoxicated, and hit the sack rather early. Reni and I had the following day off, so we decided to stay up for a few more hours and paint a room in our new place. As I was changing into paint-appropriate clothing, I again set all my junk from my pants on my nightstand. I looked in my wallet: a twenty and a single, $21 lousy bucks. I was slightly under the influence myself, and did not realize what I was doing. The next morning I opened my wallet: ONE FUCKING DOLLAR BILL.

When the girl left, I thought about what happened and burst out laughing at this weird string of events. I called Reni, and when prompted, said, “I think my girlfriends a thief.”

You are probably wondering what this has to do with hypocrisy. Here’s why: After this incident happened, I could see just how pathetic it is to steal. However, I was a hypocrite in a sense, because I had sometimes made excuses if I took home a pen from work, or munched on the food that I may have been preparing.

Another instance: I remember a girlfriend several years back. I was so into her that I allowed her to slowly distance me from my friends. I didn’t care, as long as she was not mad at me. Now, in the present, when I have a friend who does what I did to my old friends to me, I feel hurt. I feel mad. Most of all, I feel ashamed, because now I see that this is the same shit I was doing before.

Many more times like these have helped shape my life and the way I live. In these cases, I am glad to be a hypocrite, because when I realize I am being one, there is a stronger disgust for my formerly accepted habit, trait, or principle, than if I were to just merely decide to give it up. When I see that I do something that I have deemed undoable in someone else, this lesson hits home. It goes straight into my subconscious so I will never do it again. I just wish that I could find someone with fingernails so fucked up that I will never chew on mine again.

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