When I have suffered an outrageous injury I vent to someone I believe will be supportive of me. I don’t expect, nor want to hear, “There are always two sides to every story”. My first instinct is to agree, “you are correct, MY side and the WRONG side”.
The holier-than-thou goes on to offer some lame explanation of what caused the behavior/action that is supposed to absolve the perpetrator. Or, rattle off the old saw about ancient history and letting go.
Rather than argue the semantics of bad behavior attributed to alcohol/drugs/ignorance/poverty/entitlement, I grit my teeth. Some actions are so egregious they don’t pass the smell test for “the other side of the story” consideration.
The two sides blah blah blah theory is usually offered by someone who isn’t directly affected by the actions of the offending party. If you don’t have skin in the game, it’s easy to be generous with theories.
When tides turn and crapola visits the holier-than-thou, sensitivities change. Their altruistic theories reverse. They are oh so eager to tell you their side of the story.
This is an opportunity to be generous and turn the other cheek. The problem with that is even as a wee child I had a huge problem with turning the other cheek. It’s weak and lame and why would I do that? I have zero interest in being saintly.
Sometimes the universe presents us with the opportunity to get even, or I prefer to think of it as what happens when the shoe is on the other foot. The cliché I believe in is paybacks are hell. Forget what your mom told you about turning the other cheek. Listen to that devil sitting on your shoulder.
Remind the former holier-than-thou, “There are two sides to every story.”