It may not have been a fistfight, but it wasn’t any prettier.
I didn’t start it (though I’m sure the other person didn’t think that, either) and I didn’t finish it, but that doesn’t make it right. Or wrong. It just was.
I know, I know. I should’ve known better than to step into the ring. These things never end well. (Sometimes it seems they never end.) But when somebody jumps you in an discussional back alley, with a lead pipe of doctrine, and they’re part of a gang you thought you were already a member of, well, things quickly escalate. I started thinking.
“I’m just trying to defend my position.”
“There must be some misunderstanding.”
“Maybe I could try a different angle.”
That never works. Well, it hardly ever works. And I’m not saying the other person was wrong. I’m just saying I don’t think I was either.
Finally, I just gritted my teeth and backed out. Then I called a friend and we hashed it out. There’s really not much more soothing to the wounds of intellectual violence than the healing balm of shared opinion.
“No, I think you’re right. I feel the same way.”
I’m not sure if I’ll ever learn. But some days, I think I’m getting better.