“Thank you for not getting involved in crap – it’s so refreshing.”
Those exact words were spoken to me, in high school, by a popular girl caught up in the latest classroom drama.
I forget how I responded – probably “you’re welcome” – but soon after, I realized something about the seeming compliment: I never had a choice.
Or, as my teenage brain phrased it: “No one invited me to the crap.”
I didn’t mind. I felt superior to my classmates and their silly conflicts. But I noticed the irony of getting credit for the path I had taken, when the other was blocked to me.
I’m twice as old now, and still have no idea how to enter a gossip-driven clique. I still don’t mind.