Posted on The Haven.
Sometimes at work, when I can’t get back to sleep after a meeting, I lay awake and daydream. Today I daydreamed of being a sociopath. Again. Oh, you think it’s creepy to want to be a sociopath, do you? How about I sneak into your house at night and make you pay for that thought?
Ha, ha! Just kidding! Sociopaths aren’t necessarily violent maniacs, although violent maniacs are, ipso facto, sociopaths. Anyway, I’m not actually a sociopath. But sometimes I wish I were. Here are some reasons why!
If I were a sociopath, I would have a lot of friends because sociopaths have a magnetic charm that draws people to them, the better to destroy their lives.
If I were a sociopath, I would exploit my “friends” and wound them with radical honesty. If my “friends” exploited or wounded me, I would feel wronged and indignant, and I would say, “Hey, I’m the real victim here” and I’d actually believe it.
Not a goddamn thing
If I were a sociopath, some other things that I would say would be, “You’re right: It’s you, not me,” “Hey, did I hear you’re getting fired?” and “I guess you’re officially off your diet.”
If I were a sociopath, I would stop feeling guilty all the time for unintentionally saying hurtful things to people. And I wouldn’t have to apologize for anything. Not a goddamn thing.
If I were a sociopath, I would give my therapist only twenty-three hours’ notice before canceling an appointment rather than the customary twenty-four to show that she doesn’t control me. Also, if I were a sociopath, I’d probably quit therapy. Maybe.
If I were a sociopath, I would embezzle money from my employer and frame that imbecile Don Grissom in HR, and then finagle things so that I got his job. I would be great in HR.
Like Michael Corleone
If I were a sociopath and we were at a party playing the “Would you rather be invisible or able to fly?” game, I would say “Invisible, so that I could spy on people without being seen.” Then, if someone joked that I sounded like a sociopath, I would say, “I’d shut my mouth if I were you” and not feel afraid that I’d get punched in the throat for it.
If I were a sociopath and I was at a restaurant, I would stop at someone else’s table on my way to the bathroom, take a knife and fork out of my pocket, cut off and eat a piece of their veal chop without permission, and then continue to the bathroom, tossing my cutlery over my shoulder like Michael Corleone in that restaurant scene in “The Godfather.”
If I were a sociopath, I wouldn’t have to work hard. All day long I’d biddy-biddy-bum, if I were a sociopath.
If I were a sociopath, I would say, “I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn’t lose any voters, okay?”
