An Interesting Man

So, there’s this thing about me.

When I am asked about a topic that I consider to be a sensitive issue for me, at first I will get nervous, and as the person continues to pursue the topic, the tears will come, and the floodgates will open.  The person will then feel guilty that they have upset me, as I desperately try to communicate that I am not upset, I swear, this just happens when I start talking about something I’m not used to talking about.  This has happened many a time, usually with people whose opinion I care deeply about, i.e. family members.

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Tonight I met an interesting man.  My dad recently reunited with a friend of his that he taught high school with in the 70s.  He came over to our house tonight and then we went to dinner.  When he got to the house, he brought a huge bag of Christmas presents for us, which we enjoyed while feeling bad that we didn’t have anything for him…oops.  My gift was a box of pretty notecards with the letter “S” for my name, as well as a journal, with a cover that said “Be true to yourself.”  I asked him if he had known that I like journals and he said no.

He is a very outgoing and funny guy, and he’s also a fan of theatre, like me, so it was fun to talk about that.

He said several things throughout the evening that I considered to be profound, and unfortunately I can’t quote them verbatim but hopefully I can communicate the essence.  The first thing he said was something like, “We all have two faces, the real us and the face that we show to the world.”  Clearly this is not a new concept, but he stated it in a pretty way—something about having a shade drawn in front of our faces and having to lift it up in order to show people our true selves.  I told him that it was poetic and he laughed that he had failed poetry in school.

Later, at the restaurant, he said, “Take the letter ‘o’ out of the word ‘good,’ and what do you have?  That’s all I have to say.”  I enjoyed that one too.

Then, it happened.  He hit the sensitive issue.  He asked me ‘what I was waiting for,’ a reference to my joblessness (well, full-time joblessness).  I started “umm-ing” and trying to answer.  He asked me how long it had been since I graduated from school.  He asked me what I was interested in and why I wasn’t doing that.  He implied that I should at least be doing something.  I answered the questions as I took deeper breaths.  I knew a physical reaction was approaching and I hoped that I could prevent the tears, but it was too late.  My parents were right there watching and these questions were like unspoken thoughts being revealed at a rapid rate, and it was too much for me.  The floodgates opened.  Then the man came over and gave me a hug.  Unfortunately I did not want a hug.  I was embarrassed.  As soon as tears come, people treat you differently, like you’re a delicate flower or something.  That’s not what I wanted. 

He then told me to look at myself in the mirror every day and get to know myself or something like that, followed by “You’re two steps away from being confident in yourself” or something along those lines. The food hadn’t even arrived yet.   I concentrated on making it through the rest of the dinner.

Here’s the thing.  I was secretly glad that he asked me those questions.  Sometimes you need a push and for someone to help you really see what’s going on.  But I couldn’t help my reaction.  The things he was asking me were things that I’ve really struggled with and am not sure how to deal with yet. 

I also chose to let go of the annoyance that someone I barely knew was telling me what to do and implying that I did not know myself.  Overall, I appreciate the things he said.  I was embarrassed about my reaction, but nobody’s perfect.  My reaction was me being true to myself, just like it says on that journal.