By “actually guilty pleasures,” what I don’t mean is, “Tee-hee, I’m ashamed to admit it, but I kinda like Bryan Adams.” I’m referring to pleasures you take that you truly believe contribute to, or are indicative of, a malignancy of the soul.
Mine: every so often, maybe a half dozen times every year, I go online and read through old posts of mine on message boards (primarily this one and one other) because I think I sound smart, and I enjoy the fondling of my ego that comes from thinking: “Damn, I won that thread. I’m smart/witty/incisive/etc.”
And yes, this means that, in all likelihood, I’ll someday come back to this thread and think, “Heheh, that was a clever idea for an OP – I wonder why it got so few responses? Philistines.” (Hi, Varlos! Got a girlfriend yet?)
I really do feel bad about mine, but it’s fairly trivial. In theory, there should be some darker entries in the thread, but I don’t know.
-There’s this co-worker I detest. She’s very immature, loud and for whatever reason, management LOVES her. I’m surprised there hasn’t been a circle jerk yet over this woman (for the record, she’s 26 and this is her first full-time corporate job, so a lot of her verbal diahrrea is probably related to that). Most of her peers including me and every person other than management loathe her and refuse to work with her. Sadly management has promised her a carrot if she does well on one project which would put her in a higher position than I’m in. Even more unfortunately, she keeps coming by to gossip about what a great job she’s doing and to tell me about the incentives she’s been promised. As a result, I practicaly pee my pants with delight when she gets chewed out. It’s awful and I’m trying not to do it - I keep telling myself she’s young, she’s not that good and her own attitude and capabilities will eventually be her downfall. I should feel sympathy. But I just can’t. She’s way too annoying and presumtious.
-Also, about a year ago I received an e-mail from an old SO asking how I was doing and if I wanted to get together. When we parted, he had dumped me saying he wasn’t sure I was what he wanted and he needed more experience to be certain. I was pissed - he thought I’d wait while he went out with other women to see if I was “the one?” Not happening. Plus, the only other reason I was mad was that I hadn’t gotten to dump him first (petty, huh?). I took vicious pleasure in telling him that I was happily married with a baby, a great job (except for co-worker mentioned above) and was also running my own business. I didn’t lay it on TOO thick, but couldn’t help a little bit of “nyah, nyah” in my tone.
Jesus. I feel like a bad, bad person now. If I were Catholic, I’d be headed to confession.
Facebook stalking. Like, reading all their wall posts and looking at their friends’ profiles and all that jazz. I feel so very dirty afterwards, like I invaded their privacy. And then I feel like something of a hypocrite because mine is set to ‘private’, so I have to add you to my friends before I let you see my profile.
Speaking of Facebook, I check my ex’s once in a while. Apparently, she’s miserable and ten thousand miles away from the man she dumped me for. I feel a schadenfreude that will only get more exquisite if they split up (which, considering her history, they’re fairly likely to). I know I shouldn’t check her Facebook, because she’s out of my life more-or-less completely, but I still like to feel that little twinge of smugness wash over me when I realize I’m better off than she is right now. Petty, I know, but hey, what can I say? She broke my heart.
How can you do that on Facebook? On Facebook, IME you can only see a small picture and what, their name and location? But not their full profile.
Myspace OTOH…
Ditto on the Facebook stalking of exes and old “friends” I have no desire to reconnect with.
I get a naughty thrill from reading up on their profiles and seeing what they’ve been up to, especially if their life has gone downhill… seeing that the hot guy who ignored me in high school has a pot belly and an ugly white trash wife seems like wonderful karmic retribution, and I get a horrible sense of satisfaction from it.
Occasionally it backfires and they’ve now got a fantastic job, a beautiful house and a gorgeous accomplished GF/wife… but I just close those up and move on.
OK, well this is going to sound wierd, but here goes…
I can lucid dream. Not god-like powers but fairly good control of what I want to do next. And what do I do with this awesome power? Explore the universe? Experience the awesome power of flight? No, I have sex…lots of sex…sometimes bordering on sexual assault, because, hey it’s not real, right?
I wake up and think, WTF is wrong with me? But I do enjoy it.
I’m guilty of the occasional schadenfreude (not too often), and also of unbecoming (to me) pride in things I really deserve no credit for (more often.)
I sit by the phone while it’s ringing and I know it’s my Nan an d I know she needs help, and it amuses me that she’ll have to get it elsewhere and stop bothering me.
An annoying relative of mine is job hunting without success. Normally I’d be sympathetic but she has such unrealistic expectations, and is so cocky about her prospects (“with my qualifications I can write my ticket anywhere”) that I feel a frission of guilty satisfaction whenever she mentions that she has yet to land her well-paying, no stress job with short hours.
Can you teach me how to do that? 'Cuz it sounds way better than internet porn and hand lotion.
Having spent most of my adult life in news/entertainment media, I’ve made more than a few enemies. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than the rare occasion when I meet those people in a social setting and pretend that we’re old friends. I don’t mean just being nice, like a nice person would be. I mean back-slapping, story-sharing, hey-didn’t-we-tear-up-the-town-back-then good ol’ boyness. I stood with my arm around a guy’s shoulders once, telling a small knot of people stories about how he and I had crossed swords about a civic issue (it was the local prison, and he actually tried to sue me because I’d called him “a boob” in a column). You’d have thought we were best buds and I can still feel him squirming. I bought him a drink when it was all over. I like to think I ruined the evening for him. I have no defense – I’m an asshole and he tried to sue me. Fuck him. (Even re-telling this story gives me pleasure!)
