I am in a tight spot.  I put myself in this spot, without a doubt, I cannot pretend otherwise, but it is no less tight a spot.  In some ways, tighter.  “Who put you in this tight spot?” a friend will wonder, rhetorically.  

“I did,” you will be forced to admit.  And then it is time to talk about something else.  It is unbearably depressing, in a world of almost infinite tight spots, to talk to someone in a tight spot who put themselves there.

“Jesus, that’s a tight spot…” a friend will think, brow bent.  They brighten as the waiter hands over the wine list.