Serious fucking question. Besides a select, and I mean very select few, I can’t think of many. Patterns, history, do me wrong once shame on you and all that jazz. And no, being unreliable one time doesn’t count. We all have our mess ups. Even two times, I get it. I mean gotta consider the circumstances.
But three times or more, okay now you’re establishing a pattern: you’re unreliable. And you know what that means? Now your word means nothing.
I’m not usually a bettor, one of the few vices I’ve managed to avoid. But if you have a pattern, then I’ll put everything on red, red being that future-you will be about as reliable as dollar store saran wrap.
Maybe I need to start actually betting. Hmm. Maybe I need to start buying brand name saran wrap.
You can’t change a person. But you can change your expectations of people. And that’s the crux of reliability isn’t it? Expectations.
Why do we keep expecting unreliable people to magically become reliable? Hope is why. And we all know where hope gets you.
I really need to abandon the white knuckle grip I have on hope. I shouldn’t expect people to change because newsflash: they never fucking do. Yeah, they might make small changes here and there, over time, but in general, people aren’t changing the core of who they are.
Unreliable is as unreliable does. And if your naive heart gives them a third, fourth, fifth, nth chance and they still fail you, well, joke’s on you then.
My car has rarely ever failed me. Twenty years now and still purring like a kitten, okay maybe more like a senior cat with a nagging hairball.
There may have been a time or two when I’ve been left on the side of the road with thoughts of “how much is this gonna cost.” But in twenty years, those times were few and far between. These days my car needs a bit more TLC. My mechanic even knows me by name. “Hi, it’s Christine with the red Hyundai calling…again.”
A friend of mine said an old car is like a grandmother–you can take her to store but you wouldn’t take her across the country.
And therein is the difference. Great expectations.
My elderly car needs more band-aids now. Such as life. But my car can’t help it. Unreliable people, free of creaky, old engine parts, can help it. Just do what you say you’re gonna do. Is that so fucking goddamn hard?
Apparently it is. I even give a pass to younger people, as I once was one. You don’t know shit of what you’re doing when you’re younger, so unaware of the effect your actions have on others.
Besides that though, be fucking reliable! Follow the fuck through! Otherwise you’re all talk.
I’ve certainly been guilty of the same, both younger me and not that much younger me. My veiled confession of sorts. I make more of an effort to be reliable now though, at least I think so. Hey, future-me might not give one fuck about what you’re asking of present-me, so I make that possibility known in the beginning. Prefacing the expectations.
Just don’t promise me the moon then deliver a white dwarf. That’s really fucking annoying. Stirs up my inner Greta.
It’s sad that some inanimate objects are more reliable than people. A lot of sad things are truth.
A friend years ago endearingly named my round, red (now kinda orangish) Hyundai, The Deviled Egg. My previous car, a round, white Honda Civic was known around town as The Egg. (It died for reasons I won’t get into right now. Check your oil people.)
I once tried to put a Philadelphia Eagles (Go Birds!) license plate frame on the Deviled Egg but the screws were so rusted in place that it was a no-go. Another friend said those screws are what’s holding the whole car together. He might be right.
These friends I mentioned are among the reliable. I’m truly thankful to know them. Wish there were more people like them in the world.
Wish more people were like reliable rusty screws on a Deviled Egg.
CM
2/6/23
