Thou Shalt Not Judge

At exactly 2:04 am, I stopped judging.

I was sitting in my car outside my house with the key in the ignition. In my hand was a cell phone. The cell phone had an open text message from my inbox displayed that read "Come over." It was from someone I should not be associating with at this point in time--or at any point in time.

The funny thing is--and I know it was funny, because I laughed when I thought of it--had any of my friends been in this situation my response would have been--

HYPOTHETICAL ME: Oh my God! Are you crazy? You're not going to do this. Ugh, I can't believe you. What is it going to take to get you to act like an adult?

And on, and on, and on...

So in that moment, I realized two--no, three--things:

1) I'm a hypocrite.
2) A judgmental hypocrite is the worst kind of hypocrite.
3) In addition to giving up being judgmental, I also needed to stop checking my text messages at 2am.

ADAM: So did you go over the guy's house?
ME: No. I went back inside and ate a block of cheese.
ADAM: Ew, you need help.
ME: But the point I'm making is, in the past I totally would have gone over his house. I felt vulnerable, needy, and insecure. I would have hooked up with him and then not told anybody all the while judging away. Well, no more. From this point on, I'm not going to judge anybody anymore for any reason.
ADAM: You're full of it.
ME: Try me.
ADAM: I shoplifted a soda from the store today.
ME: You're not serious.
ADAM: I am. I took the soda and walked out.
ME: Didn't any of the alarms go off?
ADAM: Nope. Guess I got lucky.
ME: Well, that's...Do you do this often?
ADAM: Occasionally.
ME: Okay.
ADAM: No comment?
ME: Adam, you're a big boy. If you want to--

Now wait a minute! My mind was trying to play a trick on me. It was trying to sneak out a judgment. I was about to say:

HYPOTHETICAL ME: If you want to risk getting arrested and ruining your future for a bottle of soda which you can clearly afford just for some cheap thrill, then go ahead. Steal a pack of gum while you're at it, or a copy of Men's Vogue.

But that would still be judging. So instead I said--

ME: Hey, it's your life.

That would become my new mantra.

Hey, it's your life.

I was finally one of those cool laidback people who don't care about anything anybody does. I was a hippie! Now all I had to do was stop bathing.

Wait! That's a judgment! A judgment about hippies.

This was going to be tricky.

RORY: I'm not going to school.
ME: That's cool, Rory.

The next morning before everyone headed out for work and school--or didn't head anywhere in Rory's case--I unveiled my new, non-judgey self to my family. My mother was making breakfast--Frosted Flakes--for everyone, Danny was reading his Bible, and Roger, my stepfather, was reading the newspaper.

Instead of them being shocked that Rory had just declared his intent to skip school, they all turned and cast their mortified eyes at me.

MOM: Kevin, did you just tell your brother it would be 'cool' if he skipped school?
ME: I don't actually mean I think it's cool, Mom. I'm just deciding not to pass a judgment on him about it. It's his life.
ROGER: Maybe you should stay home, too, Kev. You sound a little feverish. By the way, Rory, if you don't go to school, I'm taking away drumming privileges.
DANNY: Oh please, just take them away anyway. I haven't slept well in weeks thanks to Tommy Lee and his set of devil bongo's.

My mother wasn't letting go of the subject--namely my new attitude shift.

MOM: So you don't care that you brother could become a truant?
DANNY: He already is a truant.
MOM: Isn't someone supposed to be reading about Jesus?
DANNY: I'm reading the Old Testament today.
MOM: What's your point?
ME: Mom, if you want to discipline Rory or demand that he do what he's supposed to, that's fine, but that's not my job. My job as his brother is just to love him and let him know I support him with no judgment attached.
RORY: Mom, I think he's been looking through my drawers again, because I definitely have some stuff in there that could be making him talk like this.

So my family wasn't taking the new me as well as I had hoped, but surely my friends would appreciate my new view on life.

BETH: Kevin, I had a cigarette today.
ME: Okay.
BETH: Did you forget something?
ME: That you were supposed to quit smoking? No, I didn't forget.
BETH: Then...why aren't you angry?
ME: Why would I be angry? I'm assuming you wanted a cigarette.
BETH: Yeah, I really did.
ME: And you had one. Now you're happy. So why would I be angry?
BETH: Is this reverse psychology? Because my mom tried that on me once. She made me smoke an entire pack to make me quit.
ME: Did it work?
BETH: I actually asked for a beer and another cigarette when I was done.
ME: Beth, you're a grown-up. You should be able to do what you want to do without having to hear about it from your friends who are just supposed to support and love you for who you are.
BETH: I can't handle this.
ME: What? Support?
BETH: Yes, it's freaking me out. I need a cigarette.
ME: So have one.
BETH: Now I don't want one!
ME: Why?
BETH: Because you took the fun out of it! Thanks Kevin!
ME: Hey, it's your life.
BETH: Go to hell!

Okay, so this wasn't going exactly according to plan. But I was going to stick with it. It was just going to take people some time to get used to me not being a nagging prude whose always telling everyone what to do.

I had no doubt at all, however, that my new approach to life would be appreciated at work.

MARTHA: What the hell is wrong with you?

This was Martha's response when I told her that I didn't see why we should criticize Daisy for always giving her son money when he has A) No job B) No prospects of getting a job and C) Has been on Maury twice for paternity tests (He's their biggest sweeps stunt).

ME: I just think how Daisy deals with her son is her business.
DAISY: Thank you, Kevin.
MILLIE: But she's not dealing with him. She's writing him a check and sending him off to buy God knows what--
MARTHA: Drugs, booze, porn--
MILLIE: Meanwhile, she should be setting him straight.
DAISY: Jerry won't buy porn. He gets it free off the Internet.

It was time for a little enlightenment.

ME: Ladies, let me explain my philosophy. I call it 'the moving train.'
MARTHA: Hang on, let me get my earphones. I can either listen to you or Tony Bennett, and it's pretty clear that Tony's going to win.
ME: Just give me a chance here. In most situations, you're dealing with a speeding train. Somebody likes someone they shouldn't. They're addicted to something they should give up. They keep repeating bad behavior that isn't good for them. So you tell them to stop. Give it up. Stop seeing whomever it is they're seeing. Do you know what you're doing?
DAISY: Impersonating Dr. Phil?
ME: No. You're standing in front of a speeding train. Nothing you say or do is going to stop them. They need to make their own mistakes and if you care about them, you let them do it and you're there for them whatever happens. It's that or get hit by the train. That's something I just recently learned.
MILLIE: No more letting him go into the self-help section on his own.
ME: Now, take Daisy and her son. We could bully her all we want about what we think of what she's doing--
MARTHA: --my heart in San Francisco...
ME: But why bother? Why not just let her come to a decision about it herself?
MILLIE: You're right, Kevin. As a matter of fact, why don't I write Jerry a check too?

She took out her checkbook.

MILLIE: I mean, after all, he's on a moving train.
ME: No, I didn't mean--
MILLIE: Nothing we can do is going to stop him anyway. Might as well just get him where he's going faster.
ME: Millie, you don't have to be sarcastic. I was just saying--
DAISY: Make the check out to Jerry Gray--
MARTHA: God, Tony, you send me.

I didn't understand. Here I was trying to be all zen about everything and instead I was getting everyone riled up.

JOEY: It's because people are used to having a certain relationship with you, Kevin.
ME: What relationship?
JOEY: You're the practical one. You're the one who tells people what they don't want to hear.
ME: Yeah, but everyone hates me when I do that.
JOEY: I know. It's like flossing though. You hate doing it, but you have to or your teeth will look gross.
ME: So I'm--
JOEY: And then someone--you know, you--will have to say, 'Hey, your teeth are gross. Floss.' And you may not want to hear it...but you have to.
ME: That's true.
JOEY: Because nobody wants gross teeth.
ME: You're right about that one, Joey.
JOEY: So be that guy. Be the guy who fights plaque.
ME: Be Listerine?
JOEY: Yeah, be Listerine...or Scope. Whichever.

I understood what Joey meant. For most of my life, I have been 'that guy' with people. They hate hearing what I have to say, yet they always ask me because they know I'll tell them the truth. The thing is, I don't want to be 'that guy' anymore. Let someone else do it. I want to be the guy who tells everyone they should keep doing what they're doing and godspeed while they're doing it.

Luckily, I knew someone who would love the new me. The guy who I've judged more than anyone in my entire life: My Dad.

DAD: The queer across the street and I got into another argument today.
ME: That's a shame, Dad. I hope you two manage to work it out.

I was eating dinner at my Dad's house. That meant a pork roast that could choke Don DeLuise. My stepmother, Stacey--who happens to be young enough to be an embryo--was still unloading her purchases from the mall that day. We get along fine, mostly because we both grew up on the same television shows.

My sister, Annie, is still only eight, so Dad and I try to watch ourselves around her.

DAD: What the f**k did you just say?
ME: Nothing, Dad. Just that I hope--
DAD: I heard you.
STACEY: Big Kev, I got Annie that computer game she wanted.
DAD: I thought we weren't getting her anything until she started doing better in school?
ANNIE: Daddy, I love you.
DAD: Oh, never mind. Have fun with your game, sweetheart.

I could never have gotten away with that as a child. Girls can work magic with their fathers. My only magic was making my face transform into a smile when I said, 'Of course, Dad! Who wouldn't want to play soccer?'

I would have said something about him spoiling her, but--

ME: Yeah, Annie. Maybe you can show me how to play the game later.
ANNIE: Okay, Brother.

She still calls me 'Brother.' I'll admit, it melts me like ice cream in Key West.

DAD: What's going on with you? First you don't get mad at me for calling the fairy neighbor a queer, then you don't say anything about me spoiling your sister.
ME: Dad, it's your vocabulary and she's your daughter. Who am I to say anything?
DAD: Hey! I raised you to have an opinion about things!
ME: But you disagree with all my opinions!
STACEY: Can't we have one dinner without you two shouting at each other?
ME: Stacey, if you can tell me one band that was at Woodstock, I'll respect you forever.
STACEY: Um...The Bangles?
ME: Wow, I was worried for a second there.

My Dad speared a piece of roast and ate the whole thing without chewing.

DAD: You going to mention how all all this meat is killing me? All the fat? The grease? The carbs?
STACEY: There's no carbs in roast, Big Kev.
DAD: He knows what I'm talking about!
ME: Dad, eat a bowl of lard for all I care. I just want you and everyone else to be happy.

Annie laughed.

ANNIE: Brother, you crazy.
DAD: F**king right, he's crazy.
STACEY: Little Kev, tell your father not to swear in front of your sister.
ME: Now Stacey, it's his life.
DAD: Stacey, get me a bowl of lard!
ANNIE: Oh no! Daddy's going to eat lard.
ME: I'll just have the salad.

I haven't seen my father that mad since I told him that my fascination with wrestling had more to do with the tiny underwear than the athletic aspect of it.

CARLY: I've got a list of things I think you'll be horrified by, all right?
ME: And why do you have this list?
CARLY: Because we need to get you back on track.
ME: I am on track.
CARLY: Kevin, people expect certain things from you. Ugly shirts. Obscure literary references. And Judgment.
ME: That reminds me. I have to do a load of plaid later. Ha, that reminds me of a quote from Sister Noon by Karen Joy Fowler...
CARLY: Kevin, I once snorted baking soda.
ME: Um, why would you do that?
CARLY: I thought it would be cool.
ME: Carly, I don't believe you.
CARLY: All right, well...I also shot up heroin once.
ME: You hate needles.
CARLY: I killed a puppy.
ME: You love animals.
CARLY: It was an ugly puppy.
ME: This isn't going to work. This experiment is about making changes in my life, and whether or not everyone accepts it, this is a change that's not going anywhere. I'm not going to be judge and jury anymore. From now on, when people tell me their problems, I'm going to listen and do nothing else aside from be there for them.
CARLY: Wow. I don't know what to say that. Except...I slept with a married man.
ME: Carly--
CARLY: Two--no six! Six married men!

Oblivious as I can sometimes be, I thought giving up judging would only apply to my family and friends, but I never actually thought it would come into play in terms of my dating life--mostly because there isn't much of any at all.

It just so happened, however, that I had a date the following night.

This was a dilemma. I mean, on some level, you have to judge the person you're on a date with, to see if they're someone you want to pursue anything with, right? On the other hand, I had the tendency to judge too harshly. So what was I to do?

Then I had it.

I would be able to judge but only from a non-hypocritical standpoint--meaning--I could only rule this guy out as someone who was not a good match if he hadn't done anything that I already hadn't done (e.g. if he was an alcoholic--I don't drink, and I don't particularly want to date an alcoholic--so turning him down in that circumstance would be totally within my rights, but if he was a nail-biter or addicted to Flip This House, well I'd have to suck it up...not that I'd mind someone who likes Flip This House.)

The date started off really well. We were having a great conversation, when--as conversations usually do when I'm on a date--ours took a turn for the uncomfortable.

REESE: I'm very liberal sexually.
ME: Oh...are you?

I could feel a judgment coming on, but I fought it. After all, aren't I liberal sexually?

REESE: I think sex should be something people can talk about freely without being embarrassed.
ME: I agree.
REESE: For example, I find I can only get off when two other people are involved--not just one.

Okay, I guess I'm not that liberal.

ME: Is that so?
REESE: Yeah--I mean, does that shock you?

It can't. I can't shock me, because--well, I can't say I've never been involved with a threeway now can I? I mean, granted, that was awhile ago and I'm a new person now, but--

JUDGEY MCJUDGE PANTS!

ME: No, not at all. It's important to experiment, I think.
REESE: God, it's so nice to be out with someone who has an open mind about things.
ME: Thank you. I'm trying to be less judgmental.
REESE: I think that's terrific. You wouldn't believe what happened the last time I suggested to a guy that he come hook up with me and my boyfriend.
ME: Oh, I mean, I don't know about fooling around with a couple. I don't know if I'd--

You've done it before, Skanky, so keep your mouth shut.

ME: It's not something I'd do again, but people do...um...do it...with a couple...I guess.
REESE: You sound just like my boyfriend.
ME: Your boyfriend?
REESE: He was against one-night stands.
ME: Well, I--

No, you can't. Remember? Sitting in the car. Looking at the text message. How close were you you to going over--

ME: --Can't say anything about that, really. I can't judge, I mean.
REESE: He was against pornography as foreplay, too.

God, I'm a slut. Wait, now I'm judging myself. I can't win.

ME: To each his own.
REESE: But he still lets me have my threeways. That's why I stay with him.
ME: Stay with him? You mean you're still with him?
REESE: It's an open relationship.

Ding ding ding. An ungodly act I've never committed! Open relationships!

ME: I think I might want the check.

Even though I clearly had no future being the baloney in yet another open relationship sandwich, I still wondered if maybe I came off too judgey.

UNCLE WILL: I'm going to go with--
JEFF: No.
UNCLE WILL: Yes.
JEFF: Will, he's your nephew. You really want him being the bookmark in the page-turner?
ME: Okay, that's a new one.
UNCLE WILL: Jeff, he can't go around judging people in open relationships. Do you want him judging us?
ME: You guys promised that was over!
JEFF: It is! We just do it on holidays--all the holidays...even the Islamic ones.
UNCLE WILL: But in those cases only with actual Islams.
ME: Forget it. It's your...um...Hey, it's...oh screw it. Do what you want.
JEFF: Kevin, I know it's hard. But what you're doing is incredibly admirable.
UNCLE WILL: He's right, Kev. Stick with it. And every time you get the urge to judge, just remember, he who throws the first stone--
ME: Do you even know the last part of that or where it comes from?
JEFF: We ate Chinese last night. It might have been in a fortune cookie. But at least he got the right context.

That night after the date, I was exhausted. I came home and sank into the sofa. Mom was getting ready for work at the hospital.

MOM: I see not judging isn't working out so well.
ME: It's just going to take some time to get used to.
MOM: Why is this so important to you all of a sudden?
ME: Because I'm sick of people recoiling every time I open my mouth! And I'm sick of caring so much about stuff that's absolutely none of my business. And on top of all of that, I have no business judging anybody. I'm no saint.
MOM: You're a good boy. You're just a little obsessive sometimes.

Hmm...That sound...it...it sounds like...

A heriditary disorder.

ME: Although, I will say, as one final judgment, I know where I get my judgy ways from.
MOM: Your grandmother?
ME: You.
MOM: Me?
ME: Mom, you criticize everything about everyone.
MOM: That's not true.
ME: Everyone's terrified of you. Auntie Deidre didn't tell you she was getting a divorce until after it was already finalized.
MOM: If she didn't want to hear that she made a mistake, she shouldn't have made it in the first place.
ME: See! See what I mean!

Mom stopped ironing and shot me a look. A judgey look. The same look I've been giving to everybody I loved for god knows how long the minute they commit the slightest moral infraction.

MOM: Kevin, do you have any idea how many times I've had to hold this family together? Who do you think raised you to have a good moral compass?
ME: Yes, but you didn't need to do it by nagging and judging.
MOM: Maybe I did. Maybe somebody needs to say, 'No, that's wrong' or 'Don't do that. You'll regret it.' How else are people supposed to know what right and wrong is anymore?
ME: And who are you to tell them what right and wrong is?
MOM: That's the problem with the world you kids live in today. Everybody just goes around acting on every whim and fancy they have, and then they turn to their quote unquote friends and ask if they're doing the right thing and you all say 'Sure! Of course you are! Go ahead. Stick your head in the fire! You'll love it!' Because none of you are strong enough to risk losing somebody just to try and help them.

She came over to the couch to grab her pocketbook. I was stunned. Is this what my mother actually thought of my generation? That we were all wimps who couldn't stand up to one another and that we were all too sensitive to hear the truth?

I mean, for god's sakes, her generation wasn't that much better! I've seen The Big Chill! Those people were psychotic!

ME: I didn't know you had such disdain for me and my entire age group, Mom.
MOM: Honey, I don't. I think you kids just need to develop a tougher skin. When I was growing up, if somebody wasn't shouting at you, they didn't love you. They didn't care. And you took what they had to say and maybe you did want you wanted anyway, but you at least knew that there were people who cared enough about you to say something. People that were looking out for you. Now nobody looks out for anybody, everybody just looks out for themselves. Don't you be like that. Don't you only worry about yourself. You're better than that.

She kissed the top of my head and started to leave.

ME: The thing is...there are times when you should just say...'Hey, it's your life.'
MOM: Like when?
ME: Like when your son says, 'Ma, I'm gay.' You should say, 'Okay, honey. It's your life. I still love you. I won't...'

Mom came back and sat on the couch with me for a second. I could see she that her eyes had watered up a little. I had hit a sore spot. We'd come a long way since that great admission to her all those years ago, but for some reason I never stopped thinking that she was judging me. That she was thinking everything I did was wrong.

She put her hand on my hand and looked me right in the eye.

MOM: How's this for a judgment? Your mother was wrong. She said the wrong things because she thought she screwed you up and she blamed herself for that. And someone should have been there to say, 'Hey, leave the kid alone. He just wants your support. Stop being such a bitch.' But nobody was there. So she did what she did and she said what she said, and she was wrong. She's human. She's sorry. She loves you to death. And she thinks that because you are how you are, you're braver than she'll ever be.

I guess that's my Mom for you. At certain times, she'll say something and make you feel two inches high, and other times she'll praise you and you feel like you can float up into the clouds, but not matter what, you know she's telling you the truth and that she's saying what she's saying because--even though it might sting a little--she thinks you're worthy of nothing less.