Happy v. Glad (reprise)

Alright. I lied. I’m sorry. I said I’d get around to posting the real Happy v. Glad by the end of last weekend, and, well, it’s Wednesday and I’m just now getting around to it.

Not that anyone actually cares. It’s just that it caused me to break one of my personal Rules of Blogging, and it has me somewhat miffed.

But anyway, moving on …

As much as I’d like to spend this post discussing the dream I had Saturday night in which I was a dancer for Lady Gaga (complete with white leotard, diamond-studded tights, and white patent stilettos), I fully understand that would be yet another long sidetrack, so I’ll spare everyone.

(Just know that it was awesome, and I think somewhere, somehow the dream fulfilled a lifelong wish of mine: To wear white stilettos without any hassle, pain or stumbling.)

So on to the real reason behind Happy v. Glad. Oh, that epic duel.

I have a slight phone-phobia. No, I don’t struggle with maintaining conversation when I’m actually talking with someone on the phone. And no, I don’t shake and cry when the phone rings and beg Tad to answer it.

It’s just that I don’t like thinking about an upcoming call.

What if we have nothing to talk about? What will I say? What if I’m boring? What if they’re boring? Who makes the first move to end the call? What if no one EVER makes a move to end a call?

These are my fears. They’re silly, I know, because as soon as the call starts I’m perfectly fine and everything goes wonderfully. It’s just the waiting. The knowing. The over-thinking that gets me.

So, I often text.

Except texting can be just as much of a beast because I happen to care WAY TOO MUCH about the words I’m using and how I’m using them.

I can’t help it. I’m a word person.

So yes, I’ve been known to take soooooo long to answer a text that the sender ends up sending another text to provide additional information, thus interrupting my super-long and intense crafting of a response. I’ve also been known to erase entire messages, only to write and rewrite until the wording is perfect and I say all I want within the allotted 160 characters. I’ve also been known to spend minutes (minutes!) debating over two words. Weighing the pros and cons, denotations and connotations of each.

Which is where Happy v. Glad comes in.

It was a simple text. One I was crafting to honestly thank Tad for inviting me to Game Night. But also politely decline because I’m busy, busy.

Glad sounded a bit too much like I’ve been expecting him to ask me.

Whereas Happy sounded as though I’m jumping for joy at his asking me.

I spent two minutes debating before deciding to go with Happy and be done with it.

“babe I think I’m just going to stay home tonight. is that ok? but I’m really happy you asked me to go.”

That was it.

I swear if the UN decided to start communicating via texts, I’d have my application in so fast.

Well, as fast as I could. I’m not sure how long it would take me to decide how to word my stance on cultural conflicts.

Or, as some may call it, war.