I'm Just Sayin'

Most people won’t tell you the awful truth. And to be honest, I’m OK with this. Chances are I have a firmer grasp on my myriad faults than you have, and your reminder doesn’t help me go on living in spite of them, which is my chief struggle. If you don’t have anything nice to say, our mothers taught us, say it out of earshot. (What. Is that not how that goes?)

But doesn’t that practice make every qualitative statement suspect? If you weed out all the bad stuff, what am I to make of your compliment? You say you like my hair; is it safe to assume that everything else about me is an unspeakable eyesore? Because that, for the record, is what I’m assuming.

See, there’s a difference between taking compliments and believing them. I learned how to accept a compliment from a gay guy as uncomfortable in his own skin as I am. He taught me just to say “thank you.” Protesting makes it worse. Downplaying looks like you’re fishing for more. Disagreeing suggests this kind soul doesn’t have any taste. “Thank you” will do. There’s plenty of time later to review the reasons why I still suck.

So now I say “thank you”. But I suspect you may be lying – y’know, just to be polite.

Seated to the right of the purveyors of compliments are those who believe that being honest is more important than being polite. Indeed, they’re right about that in some instances. And yet they seem to conflate the two, and are astounded to discover – usually by making someone cry – the maxim: just because you’re right, doesn’t make you nice. That is, telling someone the facts may do them a favor, if only I can manage to stop there. Judgment of the merit of those facts is merely opinion.

And my opinion is that most people’s greatest strengths are also their greatest weaknesses. Pretending they’re one and not the other is just that: pretending – whether for the sake of argument or in defense of one’s self-esteem hardly matters. Or maybe we simply lack the imagination to recognize our faults. Logically though, the presence of an upside suggests there must be a downside around here somewhere (and if you’re at a loss, I’m just the girl to find it for you). If I’m known for snappy answers, you shouldn’t have to look far for someone who finds me either snide or patronizing. It’s the other side of the same coin, and I’d be naïve to think otherwise.

It’s right about here in my thinking that I resolve never to opine again, about anything ever. I’m going to be a kinder, gentler me. Somewhere on the web is a t-shirt that reads “Ask me about my vow of silence.” I’m going to need one of them. I have a lot of opinions, and some of them don’t fit on a bumper sticker.

But if there’s a drawback, aren’t I due a silver lining as well? Sure thing, and the answer is in the eye of the beholder. If your tolerance for routine is low, you’re likely to find me boring. But it’s a straight line from dull through predictable to reliable, and you’re free to think of me that way instead (c’mon; it’ll be fun!). There’s as straight a line from irresponsible to spontaneous, from interfering to insightful, or from any unfortunate extreme to a more palatable norm.

From there it’s just a matter of setting the levels where you can tolerate them, like mixing on a soundboard. For my part, I’m trying to dial down the opinions and turn up the gentleness. I’m also shooting for less nervous laughter and more lacerating self-exposure.

At least I don’t have to worry about my hair.