Sorry about the mess

Okay…let’s put this in perspective…

That last post…truly, not really nice on my part.

I love people.  Really, really.

No, people don’t have to be smart to be my friend.  Everybody has something they are good at.  I want to know more about what they are good at.   Yes, I realize many of my posts sound like I only like smart people for the intellectual challenge.  That’s not completely true.  I love other people for what they bring to the table – their warm personality, their wisdom, their ability to solve problems or bake cakes or garden (I need tips).

It would help if they were smart – kill two birds with one stone.

But right now, all I pretty much ask for is if they have a pulse and to see me exclusively once in a while.

I’ve been to enough Pampered Chef, Partylite, Tupperware and sex toy parties than I can handle.  I want emotional intimacy in my friendships once in a while.  I want mutual exclusivity occasionally.  I want to go on a date* with you, not you and your kids or all of your friends too.  I don’t want to share you with a room full of strangers.

I wrote this post when the 50-something year old, silver-haired HVAC guy came to work on our air conditioning.  I sat and watched him the entire time, just to talk and watch him work.

It’s one of my favorite pieces of writing and one of my favorite stories.  Here’s an excerpt:

I love people (most people anyway). I love watching their facial expressions, I love listening to the cadence of their voices, I love trying to interpret what their non-verbal movements are telling me that their words are not. I love wondering about the soul of the person beneath the facade of the body that I see.

It’s easy to forget this experience when I’m with my children all day long. The cacophony around here is unbelievable at times and it is too much to take in.

The problem I have most is that I reach out to ask people out for coffee/drinks/punch and pie, and no one has the time, or if I get the rare opportunity to, there’s a bunch of scheduling conflicts or, like on Friday, an actual Lucy Ricardo/Ethel Merman slapstick gag of me and my dental hygienist friend both driving around a parking lot trying to find each other.

But that doesn’t explain why I was hurt by the other blogger’s words about smart people being no damn good at a few things.

That hurt.  Probably more than it should.

Why did it?

I just kind of broke up with my internet BFF.  Long, drawn out, complicated reasons.  Mostly because while the intellectual stimulation was phenomenal, I was misunderstanding way too much.

I do that.

I’m sensitive.

Too sensitive.

It gets me into trouble.

So, like a wounded animal…I get defensive.

I spew.

Yeah, totally unlike the lovingkindness I’m trying to achieve.

I’m a work in progress.

Sorry about the mess while I evolve.

(* by “date” I mean one-on-one with a female…not really a traditional woman/man date).

Advertisements
This entry was posted in On friendship, personal growth, personal issues. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Sorry about the mess

  1. Jen says:

    Evolution is never without pain. I am re-learning (hyphen inserted for emphasis) how to truly listen to people when they talk to me and with me in person. Reading people’s posts online is different, as there is no listening skill involved.

    I also understand only all too well the defensive mechanism.

  2. raisingsmartgirls says:

    Yes, I agree, listening is much more difficult than reading.

    I tend to be a little more efficient when I read. Plus, I can re-read if I misunderstand. I can barely repeat accurately what’s been said to me sometimes, because my auditory memory has been so underused. Or, I may have an auditory memory problem. I don’t think I ever noticed it in school, because I was a copious note-taker.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s