My younger brother and I talk on the phone fairly frequently. In some of our recent conversations, he has taken to mentioning at least one really embarrassing thing that I did when I was growing up. He never mentions these stories vindictively at all and we're both able to laugh about them, but I realized something a few months ago as he was recalling a very special Christmas. The unwrapping seemed to be over until I found a box with my name on the tag. I brought the box into the corner and silently, eagerly unwrapped it to reveal a TV. I immediately let out a squeal of delight which was cut short when my grandmother announced that this present was not intended for me; I had misread the tag. I don't think that anyone laughed about it at the time. Instead awkward silence ensued and I laid low for the rest of that Christmas. As my brother was fondly retelling this Christmas catastrophe, I tried and failed to think of an embarrassing story about him. I've been trying for weeks to think of something, anything, stupid or rash that he did when he was little, but I'm still drawing a blank. He's far more subdued in his temperament, while I've become more and more willing to throw myself out there, despite the risks. Both temperaments have their advantages and both have their downfalls. I think that my boldness has also been accompanied by a certain form of tactlessness.
Luckily, I've been too shy for most of my life to cause too much damage. I didn't have many guy friends before college; I was too introverted to initiate many conversations and when I did speak, I was far too blunt. I remember being chided, and rightly so, when I was in high school for telling someone, to his face, that I did not like him.
The summer before my senior year of high school, my family decided to host a foreign exchange student for three weeks. When friends and neighbors found out it was going to be a guy right around my age, they teased me relentlessly about falling in love with this French boy. "No," I said. "You don't understand. That's definitely not going to happen." I was assured and re-assured that yes, this was naturally what was going to happen. What actually happened, of course, was that Hakim and I fought almost constantly the entire time. When he cheated at cards, I was quick to call him out on it; when he claimed that french fries were indeed French, I was eager to explain that they were actually Belgian. I think I caused my mom minor stress when I wrestled him over a pen for five minutes in our family room. My mom was on the phone at the time and I can still remember her eyes bulging as she snapped her fingers at me, but I was determined to retrieve my pen.
While my temperament has caused moments of sheer idiocy as described above, I hope that it has not caused only terrible things. I think that it also means I pursue my friendships and interests with a certain vigor. I try to encourage the people I love whenever I can. Usually this encouragement takes the form of baked goods, forced hugs, laconic statements, or absurd notes. I don't know how encouraging these things turn out to be, but if you've experienced them before, this was me trying to love you. (Did it work?)
I have since stopped wrestling over pens and frequently announcing my dislike of strangers, but I'm still not sure that I've gained much where matters of discretion are concerned. I could probably learn a lot from my brother.
Also-I would like to apologize to anyone whom I have offended due to my tactlessness with a special emphasis on Hakim and that boy from high school. I would like to note that by 'anyone', I pretty much mean anyone I've talked to for more than 15 minutes.
It worked! I love that you encourage me. I have some letters from you in my nightstand to remind me that I am not forgotten over here. I think this is one of the things that makes you a really good friend. That and recommending that Robyn song to me that turned my dancing life on its head (literally and figuratively).
ReplyDeleteHonesty is super refreshing, and often helpful, but it's terrible to think (or know) someone doesn't like you. My point being, maybe it's fine to keep being honest as long as you mostly steer clear of that one particular style of comment. But I will admit that some people could probably tell I didn't like them even though I didn't just come right out and say it.
Just to make this comment a little longer, I will also suggest that there might be layers of honesty. We might have talked about this before, but you can be honest to the idea of, "you are a human being and I value you," without being honest on the layer of, "but your weird mannerisms really bother me" and it's not, like, being fake, depending on circumstances of course.
I adore the title of this, and am pleased to read that life isn't suddenly perfect if you're bolder, which is something I admit to suspecting from time to time.