Shhhh.

A long time ago, perhaps in a life not so distant from this one, I wrote about a phenomenon (not so unusual to some of us) called bitch regret. That is, the nearly-immediate qualm felt after letting someone (whose feelings you care about) have it. The lashing is usually impulsive, fire-fueled, and ever so slightly exaggerated. Which is why our repent is usually just as swift and forthcoming. It’s not necessarily an irrational or undeserved outburst, but it may have been better left unsaid. Or more nicely said. Whatever.

I’m having a form of that I’ll call rant remorse. Which is one of those moments when you dive into an obviously shallow pool with all gusto and no hint of caution. It has the speed and adrenaline of a retracting measuring tape with precisely the same amount of time for backpedaling. Usually there’s no victim present or clear target, which is partly how it becomes out of control so quickly. That combined with the pleasure of letting free such scandalous opinions or statements.

These missteps include:

• Waxing politically or religiously (especially insensitively so) in the company of highly dissenting individuals.
• Discussing the untoward behavior of a colleague with a person who doesn’t share your disdain.
• Unapologetically speaking at least two obscenity levels above what is the standard acceptable for minors.

What you’ve said cannot be unheard or unlearned. You might be sorry now, but it sure felt good in the moment.