In Which Amanda Learns About Grammar and Life

Last night I yelled at a friend about grammar in a bar.  

In case any of yall doubts the obnoxiousness of what went down, let me repeat.  I yelled at a friend about grammar in a bar.

This totally horrifies me.  But at the time, I absolutely could not stop myself.  We were all sitting on a banquette engaging in languid conversation at the end of a lovely night out, and someone off-handedly mentioned being confused about the affect/ effect rule.  My ears perked up.  There are so, so many things that I do not know.  I can only reliably cook two things: scrambled eggs and cinnamon bundt cake.  I have no idea how to dress for work.  I have spent the majority of my twenty-eight years trying to figure out how to prevent my hair from blooming into uncontrollable frizz when the atmospheric humidity level hits above, I don't know, five percent.  But I know affect/ effect.

Or at least I really thought I did last night.  In my best Tracy Flick tone, I stated the rule.  My friend listened, nodded, and then corrected my rule, "Yes, but."  I disagreed with her clarification.  Strongly.  Suddenly possessed by a monstrous sense of confidence, I persisted in pushing my version of the rule on my friend, my shrillness escalating alarmingly.  "You're just wrong," I kept insisting.  "I know I'm right."

Not only did I know I was right.  I somehow, in that moment, also believed that my insane behavior was acceptable.  Became totally blind to everything except how right I was, how wrong she was, and how everything would be fine once people saw that I was not crazy, I was knowledgeable at least about this one thing, and that I was definitely right.  Meanwhile, my companions were becoming more and more uncomfortable and I'm sure wanted nothing more than to direct the conversation back to match.com tactics or anecdotes about co-workers or getting dessert or whatever.

Was I actually right about the affect/ effect rule?  Of course not.  Dead wrong.  Not that it actually matters though, because even if I had been technically correct, I still had yelled at a friend about grammar in a bar. 

But, yall, the amazing thing about my friend is that, while she could have and should have chided me for The Crazy, she did not.  We sat for a few moments more.  Then we got up from the banquette, hopped into a cab, and left the bar to eat chocolate shortbread companionably and call it a night.