The other day I went to the pet store. I needed to get treats and poop bags. In one end and out the other. 120 poop bags – that’s almost two months’ worth of shit that I’ve committed to picking up. The cashier was new and wasn’t sure how to exit the current register screen so that she could ring me up. Her supervisor was talking with another customer – an older woman who was talkative, maybe lonely, and telling stories about her cat. This was one of those awkward moments that nobody knew how to navigate – a four-way intersection and everyone arriving at about the same time. The cashier didn’t want to keep me waiting but didn’t want to interrupt. She turned ever so slightly towards the two women, using those subtle cues of body language as a way of interrupting – hoping one of the other two women might notice and break it off. They didn’t. The cashier’s nervous politeness was palpable. In the amber of this moment, everyone means well but also feels trapped by it.
On Friday night, I did what I do every Friday night – I went to Otto’s. There, I hung out with one of my friends. Our conversation was wide-ranging, deep, and enjoyable. As sometimes happens when my friend is getting ready to leave, I bought him a beer in an attempt to bribe him to stay a little longer. He usually obliges. Afterwards, I sometimes worry that I dominate our conversations or that I’m holding my friends hostage in these situations. The self-conscious nag who shows up in the passenger seat of my car as I drive home from the bar whispered, “man, you talk too much. You need to shut up and listen more.” This more self-aware person always shows up too late. This is when I being to wonder if my friend felt trapped in the amber of that moment – overly polite in his staying.
At one point in our conversation, I shared with my friend that I avoid praise and attention – it makes me uncomfortable…. yet there I was droning on about myself and my experiences (pay attention dammit). Perhaps this is why I blog. He and I both write, and I saw our conversation as an exploration of the writer’s (artist’s) dilemma: wanting an audience, maybe needing an audience, but also trying to do this thing (whatever it is) for the self (regardless of audience). For me, this mental back and forth between being seen and whatever the opposite of that might be, can be a real whirligig of internal conflict – my own personal spin cycle. I know most of the people at Otto’s. On a Friday night, I’m affable and gregarious and might engage in several conversations… yet, I’m wary and uncomfortable (sort of) with the notion of holding court – being mayor.
In this mood, in this type of self-reflection, I begin to consider my behavior in other roles: at work, in relationships, with family and other friends. At work, I’m often in the position of advisor or mentor or decision maker. It’s in the title, executive director, I direct things – executively. As such, I find myself doing most of the talking. I’m ok with that, but it’s not my preferred state. No sooner did I write that, I paused and began to question if, secretly, it is my preferred state. Where are the cage walls of my desires for attention? How big is this room? Also in the work environment, I believe in trying to take a listen-first approach… and I believe in that saying, “if you’re the smartest person in the room, you’re probably in the wrong room.” Yet, I genuinely worry that I’m that guy who sucks the air out of the room. All of this makes me feel like I’m begging for ideas to be brought to me or begging for someone else to take the lead, to talk about issues, to show and teach me things.
I suspect I have similar hang-ups in romantic relationships, but I’m struggling to draw any real patterns. I might think that that I go into relationships with a lot of curiosity and enthusiasm, but I know that hasn’t always been the case. Or more accurately, I usually go in with curiosity, but the intensity and duration of which varies. What I have noticed as a pattern is that early in relationships, I seem to draw women in because they believe I think differently than other people they’ve met. I immediately try to dispel this because in my experience, that sense of newness fades. It’s as if I’m able to garner all their attention and am bracing myself for its eventual withdraw. Even worse, I often suspect their attention isn’t genuine. I begin to insist that their actions are born out of desire as opposed to obligation. Don’t text me because you think I’m expecting a text and might be disappointed if I don’t get one, but text me because you happen to be thinking of me. Don’t tell me things because you think I might want to hear them, but tell me them because you can’t not tell me them, because they’re bursting to get out. I can be exhausting in this way.
I don’t really know what to do with any of this (attention seeking vs. attention avoidance) and I sometimes envy the people who know they’re introverts or know they’re extroverts. I take that back – I don’t really envy them – I think they’re probably deluded in their self-assurance of who they think they are. I’m sure the extroverts worry that people don’t like them for who they are and the introverts loath the fact that they sometimes need others. Maybe this is just me projecting. Trying to strike this balance feels like it’s been one of my bigger conundrums for a good, long while. I was raised to almost despise attention seeking behavior. I’ve somehow found a way to knock myself around every time I receive attention, and then I knock myself around a bit more when I try to brush it off – I begin to think I’m practicing some form of false modesty (the actor receiving praise who says , “oh, stop” but really means, “tell me more.”) This post began because I “bribed” a friend to hang out a little longer and then felt like some raging narcissist afterwards. I worry about that narcissism thing a lot – mostly because I’ve been exposed to one for most of my life. I struggle to accept that people might genuinely enjoy my company – not because I don’t think I’m worthy or deserving of praise and attention but because I don’t ever want to be viewed as demanding of it (I want it, but because you want to give it – everything else feels fake). Admittedly, It gets weird. I doubt I’ll ever untangle these mental knots. I’ll end with the paragraph I wrote first – for whatever that’s worth.
If I applied myself, I think I could be a reasonably good leader of a minor and inconsequential cult. Because I don’t like to be the center of attention, I’d have to have a mask – like the Wizard of Oz, or maybe be the behind-the-scenes mastermind in some puppet regime. For the life of me, I don’t understand why, but people seem to gravitate towards me. Maybe it’s my false modesty or self-effacing sense of humor (see what I did there?). Now kindly, please look away. I’m beginning to blush and maybe fidget a little and doubt this entire moment.