This past weekend, in the midst of a confrontational conversation with a particularly vehement foe belonging to the opposite gender, I was labeled a liar, a cheat, and a scoundrel. Those are three qualities which I neither deny nor apologize for, for I am all three and probably worse. For the sake of this essay, though, I will limit myself to the explanation of only these three. I'll not refute these titles, for, as I have already stated, I do not deny the truth they convey about my character. I will, however, contest the tone of negativity and condemnation that accompanied those words as they spilt forth from her ignorant lips. To accurately title me after my deeds and transgressions is an acceptable means of verbal warfare, but to imply that I have committed such heinous acts out of spite or lust or some other degenerate motivation is simply an insult I will not bear, and an error in judgment I will find difficult to forgive.
I am a liar. I have told a thousand white lies about how girls don't look fat in certain outfits, or about how a botched haircut doesn't look that bad. I have told more serious lies to friends, about what other friends may have said behind their backs or while intoxicated. Such lies were told to preserve friendships that should not have been dashed apart by a few stray words uttered by confused friends on drunk and lonely nights. That being said, I have never lied to my friends or loved ones about my feelings toward them, or about the lengths I would go to in order to help them. I have never left a loved one in need.
I have never told anyone that I loved them when I did not.
I have cheated. I have cheated at cards and board games ever since my father taught me how. I have never cheated for money. I have cheated death more than once, but those are stories for another day. I have even cheated in one relationship, a long time ago, which is something I have always regretted and can never see myself doing again. I was young and stupid, and, to my everlasting chagrin, I chose to make a mistake that could not be undone, and in turn dissolved a bond that I had taken for granted, and permanently tarnished a part of myself. Again, though, that incident was a singularity, and one which (until now) very few people knew of. Certainly the naïve harpy set to berating me this weekend had no understanding of the truth she was telling.
As for a scoundrel… Webster defines scoundrel as:
Scoundrel: A disreputable person. See Also: rascal.
Rascal: A mischievous person or animal.
To deny my mischievous nature would be as ludicrous as denying that I have skin or teeth or hair. I am fairly certain that my mischievous nature is apparent in my sense of humor, in my smile, in the way I tap my fingers together and laugh maniacally when my evil plans come to fruition. Disrepute worries me a little though, and I am not quite certain that it is a wholly accurate descriptor. While I do have a reputation, and while the girl confronting me this weekend was proof that among certain populations my reputation is less than heroic, I have to hold hope that among many of my friends and acquaintences my reputation ranges from "masculine hero of epic proportions" to at least "an alright guy with a quirky sense of humor". Any other reputations that I may have that fall somewhere between these two would certainly invalidate any allegations of disrepute, or at least counter-balance the opinions of those people.
Of course, while I admit to lying, cheating, and scoundrel-ing, it should probably also be noted that I have told many difficult truths, remained faithful to many loves, (all, in fact, but one), and I have done many thankless deeds for no other purpose than to help those in need. I have told the truth even when it brought suffering only to me, when lying would have been so easy. I have been faithful in relationships that have been through some very rough patches, with women who would have been easy to walk away from, and I do not regret that. Those times taught me a lot about love and the value of seeing things through. I'll not recount my good deeds for you, as they are not something I seek praise for. I hope, however, that you can see the capacity for such in my character and trust me in that.
These positive points are unimportant though. As anyone who has ever done a good deed can tell you, there is reward enough in the doing. The concept I am formulating here is of a much darker tone. My moral hypothesis is this: An antihero who is willing to take the low road, to do what others would not for fear of defamation, in order to achieve a greater good, undertakes a heavier burden, a more valiant task in the vein of honor, and possesses more heart and integrity than the idealistic hero merely concerned with the manicuring of his moral high ground, and the polishing of his crystal reputation.
In conclusion, my response to she who would mark my name with slander and calumny, was what I now put forth to you in a question far more eloquently phrased: What dark deeds have you done, or would you do in the names of love, loyalty, and honor? Are you ashamed of those deeds? If so, then I ask if they were truly done to serve a higher purpose. If your intentions were there and you still feel shame, then perhaps it is because the acts you perpetrated did not bring about the results you had hoped for. In any case, have you learned from those dark times, whether shamed or not?
It has been said that man is incapable of wrong doing. At the time, whatever action he chooses is what seems to him to be the right choice. From that point I suggest that the only way to learn is through retrospect.
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