A Maze of Circular Logic

Here's the thing about LSD Boy: man, is he ever like me.  He drives me crazy.  SuperK has always complained about how I'm The Answer Man, arranging all of this logical thinking and then assaulting her with it.

"It's exhausting," she says.  "You have these well thought-out arguments backed with facts and figures.  It's like being in a debate."

I didn't really understand why this was so irritating until I started to deal with LSD Boy.  Like me, his initial reaction to anything he doesn't like is to fight back in a calm and good-natured manner, leaving me in the uncomfortable position of having to decide whether to confront him about his behavior, to leave it alone, to come up with effective reasoning as to why he's a fucking idiot.  For while I don't care that much if people like me or not I don't go around looking to piss people off.  So I sort out my arguments and try to approach him diplomatically, only to find that once he had slunk off and thought about it he agreed with my approach.  But he would usually toss off some new non-sequitur that, in my relief, would zip past my ear and go unnoticed.  Later on I'd think: "WTF did he say now?"

I am so familiar with the slow, grinding release of something that I should give up but don't want to.  It leaves my clutching, grasping fingers, torn away one fiber at a time.  It really is excruciating to see it play out in someone else.

He's also quite good at the tried and true passive-aggressive approach to life.  He doesn't do things that I suggest while somehow managing to make it my fault.  For instance, I've indicated that he should pick up the phone and call from time to time, that I don't do Step work via text.  He, of course, doesn't call but when I ask how a particular Step is going will say something like "I'm just waiting for direction."  He doesn't call - which is on him - and then he implies that I'm not providing a road-map for him to move forward.

Trapped in a maze of circular logic.