One of Plato’s most enduring works is the Apology in which Socrates must defend himself on trial. In a way, it’s a look at what drives a philosopher, a professional ruminator. Socrates spends much of his time in the other dialogues scrutinizing the declarations of others, and now he stands being scrutinized himself, in a way allowing others to play the role of Socrates. In this way, Plato makes Socrates a phenomenon rather than a man. Socrates is public scrutiny. Justifications for things must have public validity and that one ought to live one’s life in search of answers which can withstand the slings and arrows of Socrates. I have come to realize that I often think as if I’m on trial in front of an invisible crowd, and this unifies a surprising variety of obsessions for me. A fairly straightforward example is my fear of not knowing what to say if caught in an argument about a topic. I rarely argue about philosophical, political, or ethical topics in person. But I am always arguing in my mind, trying to come up with answers to the invisible interrogators in my mind. Whereas most people win the arguments they have in their heads (they’re rigged for a quick ego boost), I frequently lose, making me anxious about the real world situations (or so OCD says) in which I might be interrogated on such a subject. Hours and hours of ruminating go into this. On the other hand, the theme to which this concept relates can be as different as retroactive jealousy. Recently I posted about how I have intrusive thoughts about my girlfriend, with whom I have not had sex for religious reasons (on both sides), having sex or being physically intimate with past sexual partners. This is usually triggered by physical intimacy. These moments start to feel really special, but then I get these vivid thoughts of her with her past sexual partners and a voice says “You think this is special? That’s cute. Look what I did with her.” The feeling of specialness subsequently goes away and I can’t regain it. It reminds me of a scene in the HBO series Barry. When Barry tells off his love interest Sally’s abusive boyfriend, the boyfriend, before driving away, quips back with, “And don’t forget: I fucked her first. I got that shit when it was tight.” It’s supposed to seem gross and pathetic in the scene but it kind of gets to me. From what she’s told me, I would not be surprised if one of her exes would say or think something like that. The thing is, a big part of it is that I feel like I have to give a justification for my feelings of specialness to voices like these that scrutinize my feelings of specialness around physical intimacy with my girlfriend. And I have to do so in a way that would withstand public scrutiny, so even if I have an answer that aligns with my own views, it’s not enough. This becomes an ever shifting goalpost and I end up losing the fight depressed and disengaged, feeling that our physical intimacy isn’t at special after all. I could go on and talk about my communication obsessions, my religious obsessions, my other relationship obsessions, etc. I think you get the idea. But you know what? Philosophical conversations are about so much more than avoiding embarrassment. With good partners in debate, you can learn a lot, which is far more important. Why should I care if I embarrass myself by not having thought things through enough? And the guys my girlfriend had sex with have done nothing to earn my respect, especially not the particularly gross versions of them my OCD creates to mock me so. So why should I care what they think of the specialness of my and my girlfriend’s physical intimacy? There is no need to walk around with Socrates in my ear all the time. I’m not on trial; I’m on winter break, and the guy is a real buzzkill.