did reach a point where I needed some clarification, so I asked her how many girls she thought Bryce had hooked up with. It turned out to be a handful.
“Infidelity is never a good thing,” I said inanely.
“I know.”
“This sort of thing destroys relationships.”
I don’t think I’m helping, I thought to myself.
Amanda frowned.
I switched my approach. “Aren’t you worried about STD’s?”
She considered the question. “You mean like AIDS?”
“Maybe. You do realize there are other germs and viruses far more common than HIV. You ever consider that he might have passed you hepatitis or syphilis? What about Chlamydia?” (Amanda and Bryce’s only form of protection was The Pill. She told me that he hated the feel of condoms.) “Don’t you think you ought to get tested?”
Mr. Fix-It had stepped in with a brilliant plan.
She shrugged.
“Don’t you want to know if he infected you?” I pressed.
“My friends say I should dump him.”
Apparently she wanted to shelve the STD question for the time being, and who could blame her? The momentary shift in the conversation was not totally unwelcome. Dump the cheating boyfriend? Sure. Sounded like a plan to Mr. Fix-It.
Then something odd happened. Amanda got this funny look on her face. She began telling me about a recent trip the two of them had taken to Key Largo. It was an afternoon of snorkeling and sunbathing. Amanda told me how gentle Bryce was when it was just the two of them. She then recounted the time they first met. “I love him,” she finally said.
Love him? Mr. Fix-It was now struggling to comprehend this latest turn of events. In fact, he was now becoming pretty frustr—
“And besides, the sex is so good.”
It took a moment to process what I had just heard; after all, she had said it so nonchalantly. The sex is so good. I wasn’t sure just what to say. And to be honest, I half expected Amanda to whip out a Parliament and start puffing. This seventeen-year-old kid, who’d just walked through my door a moment ago, suddenly looked thirty to me. I noticed something interesting, too. Amanda seemed fairly calm. The tears were gone and the blotchiness around the nose and eyes was fading.
“So, you love him. Okay…if you say so,” I stammered. “I think you two should reconsider your sexual activity. But you still have the STD thing hanging out there.”
“The girls he’s been cheating with,” she announced, “I’m sure they’re nice girls.”
Whoa.
Nice girls? What’s a nice girl? I’ve been trying to figure that one out since my mother tossed me out of the house and ordered me to go find one. And furthermore, could a nice girl contract an STD or were they immune to social diseases? I didn’t think they were, so that begged an additional question: What the devil did a nice girl with an STD look like? Would she have a Lindsay Lohan, kind of jaded look to her? Would her nose be rotting off her face? Would plainly visible, festering sores be oozing milky secretions?
Smiling now, Amanda popped up from her desk and straightened her blouse. “Thanks so much. I love our talks, Mahon.”
She spun around and sauntered to the door.
I tried to say something, but I couldn’t think of anything intelligent (or unintelligent, for that matter) to say. Amanda grabbed the door handle and smiled back at me. “Catch you later.”
The door slammed shut and I was left alone in my empty classroom.
With my empty thoughts.
With the faint aroma of cigarette smoke drifting through the room.
And a faint voice that kept asking: What on God’s green earth just happened here?
1. Cognitive Dissonance: A Useful Tool That Can Lead Some to Cancer
You’re twenty pounds overweight and something has got to give. You’ve watched Dracula (every version you can get your hands on) and now understand the merits of smashing all those nosy mirrors in the castle. The blue jeans you squeezed into last spring have been tossed into cryogenic freeze. A food pyramid is pinned precariously to your fridge beneath a cracked chili pepper magnet, while a poster of Jared hangs secretly in the attic over the forgotten treadmill. This weight, you promise yourself, is coming off. Or else.
Six days into the diet you come home to an empty house. As you peek into the refrigerator, you spot that last piece of Carvel ice cream cake left over from your daughter’s birthday party. God bless the founder of Carvel, you think. Chocolate ice cream, vanilla ice cream, and those little chocolate crunchies! You could kiss the guy who first whipped up this brilliant concoction. In fact, you’re getting an overwhelming feeling that you have an impending date with this piece of cake. Problem is you’ve remembered something: it’s a small matter concerning that little diet you started last week. All of a sudden you’re aware of a twinge of guilt tugging at your sleeve.
What is happening here?
You’re actually experiencing what a New York City psychologist observed back in the 1950’s. His name was Leon Festinger and he termed this rather common phenomenon Cognitive Dissonance.1 The phrase literally means Thoughts (cognitions) that disagree (dissonance). Basically, Festinger believed that people strive for harmony (consonance) between their thoughts and actions. However if thoughts jiggle out of alignment and begin to contradict one another, this may cause internal tension, even stress. And, generally speaking, people will strive to avoid stress whenever possible.2
Since dieting is a challenge facing millions of Americans daily, the example should be a fairly easy one to grasp. Should I choose the cake or the diet? One may stay, but the other will have to go. This predicament is summed up thus: Thought #1: I’m on a diet to lose twenty pounds. Thought #2: I’m about to make this piece of ice cream cake mine. And the predictable result: unpleasantness and stress (maybe not catastrophic stress, but stress nonetheless). It doesn’t take you long to realize you can’t be on a diet and gobble down a piece of ice cream cake. The two rival camps will spot one another immediately, face off and begin saber rattling:
I’m allowed one little piece of cake. Not on this diet, kiddo. But I love sweets. So, love them next month. For now, you’re on a diet. What’s the difference if I cheat this once? Diets are like marriages. If you’re going to cheat, don’t bother to get married in the first place.
When the dust settles, you decide to eat the cake. The temptation proves to be too much. But there could be a possible solution to this stress you’re feeling. You might, as Festinger reasoned, change one of the two cognitions rendering them benign in relation to one another. With the adjustments now in place, this is what you’re left with: Thought #1: I don’t do diets. They are simply not for me. Thought #2: I’m about to make this piece
