On Second Thought, Maybe I Am Hot Headed

They say you learn something new every day. Sometimes it's a random fun fact like where a certain athlete went to college, or that Thomas Jefferson might’ve been complete fraud. Other times, it's something far less enjoyable, like finding out you’ve contracted some sort of disease. But today, I learned something about myself. Something personal. Something I hadn’t really considered before.

I’ve never viewed myself as a hothead. I like to think I’ve got a pretty good handle on my emotions at least when I’m not out boozing with the boys. I’m not the type to go looking for fights, and I haven’t been in one since sophomore year of college. Not because I’m scared fighting just got stupid. So when I left that behind, I assumed that also meant I left the hot-headed version of myself behind too.

Well, apparently not.

Turns out, you can be a hothead with your words. And today, I realized I have some hot-headed tendencies that don’t involve fists flying. I didn’t even see it in myself until Ella, my “friend” but low-key diabolical Ella knew exactly which button to press to make her point. I’m usually the punching bag around this office. It takes a lot to get a real reaction out of me. But there are certain things, very specific things, that set me off like a time bomb. And one of those things? The idea of my friend trying to set up my ex-girlfriend with someone else.

Let me be clear, my ex can date, sleep with, or do whatever she wants with whoever she wants. We’re both free agents. But the issue isn’t with her, it’s with my so-called “friend” lobbing her up to one of her boys to lay the pipe. That’s a line I didn’t even realize existed until Ella floated the hypothetical. Hypothetical! This hasn’t even happened, and I still felt like I got hit by a truck.

It wasn’t about jealousy. I don’t think I was triggered over my ex herself. It was the feeling of being backstabbed. That betrayal even in theory triggered me. And considering I’m about to live in a Jersey Shore-style house for five straight weekends with a group of absolutely wild characters, I’m starting to think that feeling might not be a one-off.

Maybe instead of venting it all out here, I should save some of this for my therapist. Maybe. But if one thing’s clear, it’s that I need to get a grip on this before these five weekends turn into the longest and most emotionally chaotic stretch of my entire life.