I Screwed Up

Lesson learned: Never write after two hours sleep and three gummies

Well, I really stepped in it this time.

I can often be judgmental and overly harsh in my judgments. I know that and it’s something I’m working on. And, because of a story that I should not have written, I am taking all sorts of grief in the cesspool known as “social media.” Twitter, to be exact.

Two nights ago, I couldn’t sleep. I had turned in early and by 11 pm was wide awake. A few hours before hitting the hay, I had taken my usual sleep meds along with three “edibles”…gummies…from our local dispensary that are supposed to help ease anxiety. Talk about stupid.

The effect was exactly the opposite. I was jittery and anxious. I wandered from room to room in an attempt to gain some peace. I never did sleep.

In the morning, as I was groggily sipping my coffee, I scrolled through my Twitter feed. That was my first mistake. Before writing on Medium, I used to shy away from such platforms like the plague. But, as any writer here knows, they are a necessary evil.

And “evil” they can be.

I saw some pics, selfies, and not for the first time, that I considered, and still do, to be objectionable toward women. Lest you think otherwise, and as anyone who has read me knows, I am a “sex-positive” individual, so my feelings were less to do with sex itself and more with the actual nature of the images themselves. If that makes any sense.

“Sex-positive.” Where do these labels come from? We are a society of lemmings.

But, in my humble opinion, there’s a difference between “sexy” and well…you know. I won’t say it here. Oh hell, yes I will. There’s a huge difference between sexy and skanky. Again, that is my opinion and mine, only. Unless I’m mistaken, we’re still allowed that, no?

But it was none of my damned business.

My second and biggest mistake was writing about this. And I screwed-up big time. In my sleepless haze, I stupidly used specific examples that came back to bite me in the ass. No, not “stupid,” beyond that.

I was wrong. Let me repeat. I WAS WRONG.

I don’t know what I was thinking or if I was thinking as it didn’t take much for the individual in question to catch on. Whether the person was alerted by others, or read the story themselves, I don’t know. But I was one-hundred percent errant in my actions.

The funny thing is, or not-so-funny, I had that niggling feeling we’ve all had before hitting “publish,” when we think, “Uh…maybe not.” And then like idiots, we go for it.

I went for it, and I’m still paying for it.

Later in the evening, I’d thought about deleting the story and due to my exhaustion, forgot. Note to self: Act in the moment.

It didn’t take long for the wagons to circle and the rifles to emerge from under the tarps. The next morning, there was a long string of comments in my feed. The majority of them from “sex writers” on this platform.

Now, I love sex, and I enjoy reading about it. I appreciate well-written erotica and have spent many titillating moments poring through the stories of the writers I admire. On the other side of this coin are those writers who make “getting down” sound about as appealing as watching someone take a dump in public. Again, that is my opinion.

So yeah, I was skewered. Called a “nasty slut-shamer,” which I still don’t understand because isn’t that sort of hypocritical? I mean, who are “you” calling a slut? I don’t get it.

But I was wrong and I apologize for that. (How many times have I expressed that, now?) I hope you know that I am not that. Not a “nasty slut-shamer,” whatever the hell it is. Not by a longshot.

By the way, I did delete the story.

It amazes me how quickly virulence spreads. From and by complete strangers. Again, that’s social media for you. The ignorant trolls come out of the woodwork. Because that’s all they have going for them.

One comment in particular struck me. Again, from a complete stranger, some random a-hole of a guy who referred to me in the third person, saying that I was “Just another OG on Twitter.”

I thought about that for a while. “Just another OG.” And then it hit me:

Old Girl.

Someone who doesn’t know me from Hillary Clinton (if he even knows who that is) called me an “old girl.” That little f*cker. After I let him have it, I blocked him. Now, if OG has another meaning, someone, please clarify for me.

After admitting that I shouldn’t have written the damn thing, I also blocked everyone else. “Case closed,” I thought.

Not by a longshot as today, there were several more comments from three more “stragglers.” People late to the party.

These were less nasty. They were more like, “She should just say she’s sorry.” Which I thought I’d done. I guess I wasn’t sufficiently obsequious. That’s difficult for me. For anyone, I imagine.

So in case, I haven’t been clear, let me say it now to the individual in question. As succinctly as I can.

“I am not sorry for having an opinion. What I do regret: Expressing it in such an ignorant and hurtful manner. And for that, I am heartily sorry.”

Because that is not who I am.

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

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