Sven recently told me I was mean. He also said that luckily he liked mean. At first, that didn’t make me feel better. Who wants to be called mean? No one!
But after some consideration, I guess I am a little mean. I have never used that word to describe myself before, nor has anyone else, but my sisters and I do have this running gag about who is the evilest of the 3 of us. I mean, obviously it isn’t me, but on some level I guess I could be seen as a bit mean.
We call each other evil because we like to give each other a hard time. We tease each other. I also give my kids a hard time sometimes. But it is all because I like them a lot. I guess I sometimes give people I like a hard time.
Sven has defined this as mean. It’s not my favourite word choice but I’ve come to terms with it. I feel that he often makes poor word choices when it comes to me. In fact, shortly before we broke up, he told me that he was dreading our date and then tried to take it back as he didn’t mean it. Once that word was out, I didn’t feel like it was something you could take back. I have since forgiven him for that incident but it was definitely an example of a poor choice of words.
Sven tried to explain mean to me. He said I was clear, direct and didn’t take any BS. All of which are true. However, I personally, would not have grouped them all together to define mean.
Oh well. I may not like the terminology but I’ve decided that I am ok with the whole thing. I guess partly because Sven said I was ‘Just the right amount of mean.’ Apparently that’s a compliment.