A couple of ghost stories

Rick Richards had three co-workers, in different settings, with whom he had become close friends. Each one eventually moved away, though they returned to the area occasionally, which Rick would find out after that fact. They made no effort to get in touch with him when they did.

Two continued to send a Christmas card each year. One of those was a friend as part of a group of close friends. When he’d be back for a day or two, he’d get together with one, sometimes two members of the group, but never Rick, even though Rick had known him longer than any of the others.

The other card-sender once was going to a local event that Rick might have been likely to attend. It would have made sense for the former colleague to email and ask, “Are you going to be there?” and maybe meet up for a brief face-to-face, but there was no such attempt.

The third had been a coworker in a service organization. This person never even sent Christmas cards, though Rick felt they had been even closer than he was with the two who did. When this person was back in the area, he also made no attempt to contact Rick. A couple of those visits, however, did include being at the same place at the same time as Rick. Both times, he greeted Rick like a long-lost brother but otherwise made no contact at all.

Carl Carlton had a close friendship that began when he was in college. He and this person seemed to click immediately. They not only had mutual interests, but they also brought complementary characteristics into the relationship that helped both grow.

They stayed in close touch for many years. Carl and his wife invited the friend and spouse for visits around events all enjoyed. The Carltons also arranged to stop by and see these friends a few times when traveling near their town.

Carl didn’t give it any further thought when one of those visits couldn’t happen because of the friend’s busy schedule. But later when Carl and family showed up for a scheduled visit the other couple had forgotten about, it gave him pause. In time, the other couple was too busy to visit Carl, no matter how appealing the itinerary might seem.

Communication had mostly been by phone to arrange to get together. When email came along, Carl was not able to get an address for them.

___________

The antagonists in my childhood nightmares were not ghosts. To me, ghosts were fanciful creatures, subjects of entertaining, even amusing stories. They were nothing like the ghosts many of us have come to know, and be haunted by, as adults.

These “ghosts” are people who suddenly disappear from your life. This definition of “ghost” officially entered the Merriam-Webster dictionary in 2017, though the term can be found in use as far back as the 1990s.
Here’s another ghost story:
___________

Bill Williamson was, for many years, very close to someone in his extended family. There were letters and phone calls, then also emails and, in time, conversations on Facebook around something one or the other had posted. Bill and friend visited each other’s homes, despite the miles in between. No invitation needed.

There was a family event every two years near where the relative lived. For many years, Bill and his wife would spend a couple of days at her house before or after. One year, though, the friend had other things going on and would not be able to have Bill and wife visit. Bill chalked it up to unavoidable scheduling. When the same thing happened two years later, Bill chose not to read anything in to it then, though eventually he would look back on it as the beginning of the end.

During this time, the two friends gained vacation homes, which were an easy day trip apart. There was vague talk about getting together, but nothing definite until a time when each would be at these homes and Bill said, we’ll be at our place on these dates and can come to yours on this day.

There was agreement, though Bill sensed some reluctance on the part of the other. Then just before the time arrived, he got a message with a lengthy list of all the reasons his friend couldn’t host him at that time.

It wasn’t simply saying “something’s come up” or “we’re overloaded,” maybe giving a brief example or two. It was too much like begging the question. As the list went on, the more tangential the excuses became.

The friend said maybe they could meet somewhere when things settled down a bit. (Meet “somewhere” – i.e., “not in my home.”) She said she’d be back in touch about it. Never happened. Rather abruptly, Facebook interactions stopped. The other person’s posts stopped showing up on Bill’s newsfeed, unless they were “public,” such as a new profile photo. Comments and “likes” from her on Bill’s posts went from frequent to none. Bill was still listed as a friend but wondered if he had been unfollowed.

__________

Individuals may naturally drift apart and mutually turn attention and affections elsewhere over time. Yet when the relationship, for whatever reason, ceases to work for one, though apparently not the other, the one who wants out may resort to what has come to be called “ghosting” — i.e., ceasing to communicate without any warning.

Most, if not all of us have done it — reached a point in some relationship where we chose, for whatever reason, just to let it drop. In a casual relationship, this ending may not be particularly troublesome for either party. In many cases, acquaintanceships come and go naturally. Yet the more you’re invested in a relationship, the more painful it can be when circumstances bring it to a close. And it can be bewildering when a two-way street becomes a one-way street that becomes a dead end.

An internet search quickly turns up a lot of material on ghosting, written by psychologists, relationship experts and others. Much of the discussion of ghosting focuses on romantic relationships, but it happens in friendships as well. There’s agreement that ghosting reflects more on the ghost than the one being ghosted. They choose an easy way to remove themselves from an uncomfortable situation. It’s not the most emotionally mature choice.

Experts also suggest that we don’t try to reconnect with someone who has ghosted us. If we do, there’s usually no response from them. It’s important to remember, however, that a lack of a tangible response is, in fact, a response.

Sometimes, the ghosting is a gradual process, starting with “soft ghosting.” They minimize contact progressively over time. Fewer and fewer emails, texts or calls. Bailing out more and more on plans to get together.

Many of us may identify with elements of the tales presented above. Ultimately, we can’t do anything about being ghosted. We can just move on from extinct relationships. We can also try not to ghost other people.

If you are ghosted, try not to take it personally. It’s their pattern of behavior. It’s not helpful for you to try to think up excuses for why they follow this pattern. We can’t control another’s actions. We do, however, control our own. Take time to be sad but then move on. Devote your energy and attention to people who value you.

250-word sentence

In the 1980s, I worked in an office with people who value clear communications as much as I do. We were, after all, public relations professionals. We shared with each other examples of communications efforts that sometimes were instructive and at other times made us laugh — or cringe.

One day, for fun, I was inspired to try to create a single sentence of about 250 words that said, “Keep it simple.” I laced it with some shots at bureaucracy. (We worked in a state-run academic medical center.)

My colleagues enjoyed it. The assistant director went a step further. He had one of the secretaries type it up and send it as a memo from him to the personnel office, as human resources offices were called back then.

Here it is:

In preparing interdepartmental and intradepartmental memoranda, requisitions, policy statements and other similar necessary correspondence related to matters such as and including employee principal function evaluative procedures, fiscal responsibility in implementing cost containment procedures, appropriate temporary storage of personal and/or state-owned motorized vehicular transportation, schedules for ingestion of requisite nutritional matter (whether in the institutional refectory or another approved setting) or periodic maintenance of electronic, telemetric and porcelain equipment, such documents shall be kept to overall minimal lengths and shall utilize succinctness and cogency so as to attain optimal effectiveness due to maximum circulation, retention and application, manifest clarity of purpose and minimal exhaustion of institutional, natural and human resources, and it is suggested that all such written conveyances for which these regulations may be applicable conform to guidelines set forth by the executive assistant to the governor’s vice chief of staff’s select committee on the achievement of clarity of program mission at every organizational level, except where exemptions may be deemed necessary and justified because of state, Federal or local regulations, special departmental needs or other exemptions as outlined in the report of the task force on exemptions appointed by and functioning under the direction of the administrative assistant to the adjunct associate state attorney general (version revised January 1978), and in doing so the management will ensure that information flow is facilitated in a manner consistent with the short-, intermediate- and long-term goals and objectives of the organization, although this memorandum and the data cited herein should in no way be interpreted to indicate that these goals and objectives are not being effectively implemented currently, but rather that this will invoke additional means to the end and will further coalesce resources already at our disposal.

Forgiveness

If someone wrongs you, then later offers a sincere apology, it can be possible, if not easy to accept the apology and move on – i.e., forgive them. But what if they never do their part to make things right? Then you find yourself in the murky area of forgiveness, which seems to be a vast, perplexing area.

Can you forgive someone who doesn’t ask for forgiveness? Maybe they don’t know or accept that they need it. Maybe they know but don’t want it. Would forgiving them absolve them?

Even with a lifetime of attending church and studying the Bible, plus a master’s degree from a theological school that included training in pastoral counseling, I struggle with understanding “forgiveness.” I suspect I’m not alone.

In the Lord’s Prayer, we ask God to forgive us as we forgive those who wrong us. If we expect God to forgive us, we should be willing to forgive others. But there are differences between Divine forgiveness and human forgiveness.

Believers see God’s forgiveness as unconditional, available to anyone who asks for it, regardless of the wrongdoings. We are absolved of our sins and can start again with a clean slate.

We humans, though, are not divine. When we attempt to forgive someone, emotional and psychological factors come into play. We don’t necessarily want to let someone “off the hook.” Yet the pain someone has caused us won’t go away while we remain angry. Vengeful thoughts vex only us. It’s the proverbial drinking of the poison that you intend for the other person.

You have to ask God for forgiveness but can be assured it will be granted. If you ask another person for forgiveness, it might not be granted. Also, a person might forgive someone who doesn’t ask for it. In fact, it can be a good idea to do so, because that can get rid of that poison that is affecting only you.

That in no way cleans their slate. That’s not our job, even if it we wanted it to be. What it does do is take away the power they have over you. It allows you to recognize the pain you are feeling and to avoid (or stop) letting it define you. This can have a positive effect on your health and peace of mind, whether or not the other person ever understands and accepts that they have wronged you.

It is possible that forgiving someone may lead to understanding and empathy for them. So much the better if it does, but even if it doesn’t, it’s still worthwhile to forgive, for all the good it can do you.

What if the person you need to forgive is you yourself?

The health benefits of self-forgiveness are similar to those derived from forgiving others. Yet, I doubt I’m the only person who sometimes finds it can be more difficult to forgive oneself.

While getting another person to change is not a goal in forgiving them, self-forgiveness necessarily involves owning your wrongdoing and admitting that you might need to change. That can be difficult, more so if you aren’t ready to change.

Sometimes those not ready to change may choose to gloss over their behavior in a sort of artificial self-forgiveness.

Another cautionary note is that even true self-forgiveness can reduce one’s empathy for those they’ve wronged. Just because you feel better doesn’t mean they do, too. Experts recommend consciously practicing empathy with those we’ve hurt even as we forgive ourselves for doing so.

Please note that people who unnecessarily blame themselves for something outside their control are not candidates for self-forgiveness. They need to work on and let go of their unfounded guilt. They may also need to forgive someone else.

I am finding it helpful to identify the anger I feel about certain occurrences. In reflecting on past hurts that linger, I am starting to realize, “Oh, that’s someone I need to forgive.” I am working toward the next step: in fact forgiving them.

If it’s something about which I am angry at myself, I sometimes remind myself, “That was X years ago.” Whatever the time frame, I realize that no one else may even remember the incident and, even if someone does remember, it may well not make any difference to them now. I also have begun to say to myself “It’s OK to make mistakes” or “You are not expected to be perfect” at appropriate times.

Forgiveness, whether of others or oneself, often is difficult. The degree of difficulty may depend on how bad the act hurt or how long the grudge has been held. It takes work and practice. Talking with someone, at least a trusted friend if not a professional is often a good idea.

___________________
An internet search for “forgiveness” will yield a plethora of sources. Here are some I consulted:
— https://www.gotquestions.org/forgive-forgiven.html
—https://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-lifestyle/adult-health/in-depth/forgiveness/art-20047692
—https://greatergood.berkeley.edu/topic/forgiveness/definition#why-practice-forgiveness
—https://www.scripturesshare.com/what-is-gods-forgiveness-vs-human-forgiveness/
—https://www.verywellmind.com/how-to-forgive-yourself-4583819
—https://www.bostonimp.com/post/the-link-between-forgiving-others-and-forgiving-yourself
This analysis of Don Henley’s song, “The Heart of the Matter,” which is about forgiveness, is interesting and may be helpful:
— https://melodyinsight.com/don-henley-the-heart-of-the-matter-lyrics-meaning/

Can a birthday be belated?

If I neglect to wish you a “Happy Birthday” until a day or two later, it is my greeting that is belated. Your birthday connotes the date on which you were born, not the day on which I acknowledge this.

Yet one sees the phrase “Happy Belated Birthday” often. (Too often for me.) Most people probably know it is the good wishes that are belated, not the birthday itself, despite the ubiquitous appearance of the misplaced modifier.

No, you do not and cannot change the date of someone’s birthday by being late with your celebration of it.

I am not, however, saying that a birthday cannot be belated. Let me share an example close to my heart.

Ten years ago, we were anticipating the birth of our first granddaughter. There seemed to a good chance she would be a very special Valentine for all of us. When that didn’t happen, I was fine with having her be a very, very special birthday present for me two days later. Then, well, OK, for her mother’s birthday on the 20th. But no. She was finally born on the 25th.

Now that was a belated birthday.

A million-dollar experience I wouldn’t take $2M to repeat

As the sign came into view, “Entering Forsyth County,” one of my colleagues exclaimed, “Yay, Forsyth County!” It was maybe a little over the top but mostly amusing. She attended Wake Forest University, which is in that county.

There were four of us. Each attended a different college. No one put another’s school down, but none of us hid our pride in our own. This was just another example. It was all in good fun, much more positive than some of our interactions.

We had been chosen and put together for this summer project. Our primary role was to spend a week each in various churches, interacting with youth, leading in worship and presenting two plays. There was one other team like ours. A couple of times, with neither team booked in a church, we were together for other activities.

During one week when we were a group of eight, we had a meeting that departed from the good-natured banter described above.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a guy on the other team criticized me for talking about my school, UNC, and the town in which it is located, Chapel Hill, more than he wanted to hear. My team members, who had spent a lot more time with me, didn’t seem to have a problem with me on this. (But, as we’ll see in a moment, they did have other problems with me.) I tried to say I thought I was joining in the rah-rah banter, maybe as much as but no more than everyone else. If I’d had more presence of mind, I could’ve added that for the past three years, I had spent most of my days there. UNC and Chapel Hill provided the context for much of what I had to say.

He didn’t indicate he had a problem with anyone else sharing their own campus experiences. Ah, but what was different was that he had wanted to go to UNC-CH but couldn’t swing it financially. When others mentioned their schools, he didn’t feel envious.

It was unpleasant, but much worse was to come.

As if interpersonal issues weren’t enough, we also had to deal with a number of external challenges, including a drowning at a swim party and a serious accident during a fellowship event. One day, our supervisor received a letter from members of one church, complaining about our time with them, though the feedback had seemed quite positive while we were there. Late in the summer, we performed the play “In White America” in a town that had just been ordered (finally) to integrate their schools.

Each person had a specific area of responsibility. These roles were team coordinator, music leader, recreation and discussion leader, and preacher. I was designated the preacher and worked up a sermon to give each Sunday. The other guy was assigned recreation and discussion. The older of the two young women was named coordinator, the other given music responsibility.

That seemed good at the start, but circumstances blurred some lines. Because we traveled in my car, it was necessary for me to do some coordinating. Because my guitar and I accompanied our singing in the productions and sometimes in worship, I was de facto music leader at times. Of lesser note, but notable, I was passably athletic while the other male student was not athletic at all. This may have affected our relative roles in some recreational activities.

Even if you don’t intend to usurp some of other people’s authority (and even if they let you), doing so can engender resentment. And I presented them with other issues as well.

I do own some of the blame for intra-team friction. I had strong ideas about many things and could be short on tact. I had mental health difficulties I had only begun to address, though it turned out I wasn’t the only one on the team wearing this tag. Nonetheless, I felt then and still feel now that the amount of criticism leveled at me, as compared to what others received, was excessive.

That I was less conventional in my appearance and approach to life was a problem for the others from the beginning. Yet before the summer started, I had shaved off my then-full beard. I got my hair cut shorter and neater, though since it still touched my ears, it was too long for my teammates. Less superficial were the adaptions I made conversationally. I made sure my language was less “colorful” than was the norm among my college friends. Just as significantly, I began peppering things I said with theological words and phrases, something I had pretty much abandoned as a college student.

I felt I was compromising — moving closer to being like my teammates. I made changes to be less different from them. But I didn’t become exactly like them, and they discredited or disregarded the changes I had made. It wasn’t all; so it was none.

We had a weekly meeting that including the chance to air concerns — i.e., a gripe session. I seemed to be the primary object of the aired concerns. There was one week in which the two females had done something that the other male told me he was going to criticize in that week’s session. But it was held after we’d led some activity in which everything had clicked. My compatriot was in too good a mood to complain during the session. That was the closest we came to having one of those meetings in which I wasn’t the focus.

Things boiled over in a team meeting one night with our supervisor. The other guy on the team went through a long spiel about his growing dissatisfaction. He said he didn’t think he could continue to be on the team. His biggest issue was that there was one person he just could not work with. And that person, he revealed (though everyone already knew), was the person now writing this piece. Among other things, he criticized my hair. That didn’t surprise me, but I was taken aback when he also said the sermon I had preached most Sundays wasn’t any good. That was the first I’d heard of that. Some helpful suggestions early on might’ve been nice.

Before he officially quit, he got a chance for a repeat performance. The next week, we were again together with the other team at a weeklong youth conference. There was a meeting one night of both teams with our supervisor and his supervisor. My colleague repeated his soliloquy for a larger audience, with the same buildup to leveling blame on me. The first time, I had tried to offer some personal defense for my alleged transgressions. This time, I said nothing.

Accommodations were made for us to operate as a team of three in the last two or three churches. Despite this person’s growing resentment toward me, he had freely used me as a sounding board for his personal struggles. Not many days after he had left the team because he couldn’t work with me, he called one morning to the home where I was staying that week, because he just had to talk to me about the latest things with which he was dealing in his personal life.

The summer provided growing experiences, and not all of them were negative. Our highest highs weren’t as high as our lowest lows were low. But there were a lot of highs. Many joyful moments. A lot of intensity, often good, at times not so good. I can’t say I’m sorry I went through it, but by the time it was over, I was more than ready to go home.

After the goodbyes at the conclusion of a meal following the Sunday morning service in our last church of the summer, I got in my car and headed southwest. In Durham, on I-85, I reached the exit with the sign saying:
U.S. 15-501 S
Chapel Hill

Tears flowed.

That’s nothing

A recent Facebook “memory” was a meme I posted a few years ago that said, “Call me crazy, but I love to see people happy and succeeding. Life is a journey, not a competition.” In the comments, I conjectured, “It could be that personal competitiveness — often manifest as ‘one-upmanship’ — is so embedded in some people’s nature, they are unable to be aware of it.”

I suspect that the roots can be deep.

When I was a child, a common response to another’s boastful statement was, “That’s nothing,” followed by an even bolder claim. We all heard it; we all said it.

—–

“I went fishing yesterday with my dad and caught five fish!”
“That’s nothing. The last time I went, I caught eight. And threw back three little ones.”

—–

“I saw a guy skip a stone on the pond in the park and it bounced seven times!”
“That’s nothing. My brother can make a rock skip 10 times, every time.”

—–

“We drove through six states on vacation.”
“That’s nothing. I’ve been in 15 different states.”

—–

I doubt any of us would learn the term “one-upping” for years, but we seemed to have been born with the ability to practice it. As children, we announced our intention to go-you-one-better with “That’s nothing.” As adults, we’ve matured beyond using that phrase and replaced it with “Yes, but.” You hear it in conversation. You see it on Facebook. Sometimes the “yes, but” is implied, though you can still hear it. If you listen more closely, you hear an echo of “That’s nothing.”

Talk about your current weather experience, and it’s more extreme where they are or recently have been. Travel? They go you one better. Mention something someone did that was stupid and get an example of something even more stupid. Similar if you mention how much — or how little — you just paid for gas. Sometimes an implied “that’s nothing” is pointing out that what you’ve described is good, but less than perfect.

Say something about a personal medical concern and you may well get responses that says, “I have the same problem, only worse and have had it for a longer time.” Anniversary of a parent’s death and you’ll hear from those who encountered this loss even more years ago. Now, in these instances, they may be trying just to be empathetic. Yet the line can be fine between empathy and one-upping. Sometimes the person speaking may not realize which side of that line they are on.

More and more, I’ve amended my comments with the notation that I realize there are more extreme circumstances in other parts of the universe. I’m just commenting on how unusual the temperature, price of gas, or whatever, is for me in my personal realm. “Not trying to start a competition,” I’ve been known to say. Having said all this now, I can’t help wondering if I may be inviting the response, “That’s nothing. I have to endure one-upping comments a lot more than you do.”

Celebrate gates

“Good fences make good neighbors,” according to Robert Frost. I’m not here to dispute that. I have observed, however, that the addition of a gate may make even better neighbors.

When I was growing up, our backyard connected to the backyard of another house. That backyard was completely enclosed by a fence, protecting the flower gardens and other landscaping.

The people who lived there put a lot of work into it, and it was a pleasure to see. They were nice people who exchanged pleasantries across the fence and were fine with visitors. You just had to walk all the way around to the front door (through the yard of either of their next-door neighbors, neither of whom seemed to mind). We rarely if ever did, but we knew we could.

After I had left home, they moved away. My father, often out in his vegetable gardens, got to be good friends with the new owner, who maintained the flower gardens on his side of the fence.

They would talk about mutual interests and point out individual horticultural sources of pride. Sometimes, a closer look was warranted. This involved one or the other walking around the fence on a route that went through our neighbor’s house and his neighbors’ yard.

Eventually, my father told his friend, “If you’ll put a gate in, I’ll pay for it.” I have no trouble imagining a big smile on the neighbor’s face. Soon the gate was there. (I think the neighbor gladly paid for it himself.)

Good fences may indeed make good neighbors, but a gate makes even better neighbors. Or rather, better neighbors add a gate.

Embarrassment — a legacy?

A number of years ago, a local classic rock radio station advised, “Turn the volume up and sing along loudly. Embarrass your kids.”

It’s probably in the nature of the job for parents occasionally to do or say something that their offspring find embarrassing. Some may do so more often than others. Usually, it is unintentional. Sometimes the purpose may not be to embarrass the son or daughter, but there’s no thought given to avoiding the embarrassment. I’ve been on both sides of this, as you likely have also.

Sometimes the embarrassment is delayed.

There were two times etched in my memory in which I was laughed at — to the point of mild embarrassment — for doing something I had learned from my parents.
They fixed fried eggs sunny-side up. They cooked them in bacon grease. To get the top sufficiently done before the bottom overcooked, they used the frying pan spatula to splash the hot grease up on the egg. It was a rapid, continuing motion for a few moments.

I was using this method, as I always did, one morning at their house. A visiting member of the extended family observed and said bemusedly, “You’re going to beat that egg to death.” Now, aside from the fact that I was not touching the egg at all, I was blindsided by a critique of my following what seemed a perfectly good way to get my eggs just so.

When my father stirred sugar into his coffee or tea, he rapidly moved the spoon back and forth, making a not-unpleasant ringing sound as the spoon rhythmically hit the sides of the cup or glass. I adopted this same method, it never occurring to me to stir any other way. Until . . . .

Late in my college years, I was about to enjoy a glass of iced tea with a couple of other people. I put in some sugar and stirred as I always had. I had never noticed any reaction from anyone up to that point. This time, however, a peer smirked as he watched (and listened).

After those two incidences, I never again fried an egg or sweetened a beverage using those methods. There have been times when I’ve repeated something my parents said or did something I learned from them that caused me embarrassment, and I’d wished they’d set a different example. Yet, in these instances, I didn’t, and still don’t blame my parents, from whom I picked up the techniques, for my embarrassment in these situations. My resentment is reserved for those who chose to react as they did.

Things can go, without saying

One of my favorite poems begins, “Because of all that goes/ without saying. . . .” The writer was one of my mentors in college, Charles David Wright. We discussed the poem, “The Goodnight,” one day in a poetry-writing seminar he taught.

He explained that “goes without saying” doesn’t just mean “needless to say.” His concern in this poem is the danger that some things can go away if not said for too long — i.e., if taken for granted.

He refers specifically to feelings between life partners. As I recall, he told us he came home from a meeting late one night and wrote this as a note to his wife, leaving it on the refrigerator for her to see first thing in the morning.

The point is also applicable to other relationships as well. Over time, without affirmation, neglected bonds can wither. Without saying they can go.

Here’s the whole poem, from the collection Early Rising, University of North Carolina Press, 1968.

My like-dislike relationship with social media

Facebook is the only social medium in which I participate, unless you count group texts. I suspect that many of these thoughts, though, might apply to other forms of social media. Most do apply to group texts, as well as communication (or attempted communication) in general.

There are things I like about Facebook: being in touch with long-time friends; photos of kids, grandkids, nature, meals; inspirational posts; genuinely educational posts. I also appreciate being able to vent.

Here I want to vent about comments I don’t like to see on Facebook, whether in response to one of my posts or those of others, as well as to others’ responses. These comments fall into two categories: non sequiturs and trolling.

A common cause of a non sequitur is that the person responding didn’t really read the post (or previous comments) first. In this category are those comments that miss the point of the post. The commenter may pick up on a minor element or even a phrase not on-point and change the focus of the conversation. At the extreme are those who hijack the post, making it about them or their own agenda.

While there are “professional” trolls intruding on almost all public pages, I’m bothered more by trolling by friends. Some individuals enjoy playing “gotcha” and engaging in trash talk. At some point, though, “kidding” can become annoying, if not hurtful, because of intensity or frequency. Closely related: making the conversation into a competition and seeking to one-up the poster or another commenter.

Trolling also can include value judgments of another’s personal likes/dislikes, “witty” comments that get only halfway there, feeling a need to explain an implied joke, dedication to “yes-but” responses and proclivity for putting a negative spin on a positive post.