Posted on Saturday, 11 October 2003
There are inhibited people and then there’s me. I don’t think you can possibly understand the differences in lifestyle inhibited people suffer. Except they don’t know they suffer because it’s their personal preference. I never dance. Never. I just refuse to do it. The thought of it makes me cringe. I don’t miss it since I wouldn’t enjoy it. It’s because I am so inhibited, so afraid of what people will think when they see me. No… it’s more than that. One creates an image of oneself to people. The more people know you by that image, the harder it is for you to break out of it. I have such a reputation for not dancing, for not being a party kind of girl, I would shock people if I suddenly did something wild. That shock would almost be one of censure, even though such behaviour is perfectly normal among other people.
This is the reason why I never drink. Becoming drunk would break down my walls, my fears. I can’t imagine what sort of things I would do. I shudder at the thought. It’s not like I miss the “fun times.” I have my own fun times. I enjoy things that aren’t exactly what the mainstream crowd my age would consider fun.
But that’s not the point. I’m writing this so that you other ladies may learn from my mistakes, for my inhibition has cost me dearly, as I shall explain to you in due course.
I prided myself on keeping my feelings well hidden inside of me. At a very young age, I learned the price of telling my friends who was my current crush. Word invariably got round to the boy and I was mortified for years afterward. I remember embarrassment longer than any other event. I can tell you numerous occasions of sheer mortification. Hence why this was a lesson I learned so well and at such a young age. (At the age of 10 if you must know.) After that, if I liked a boy, no one would hear a word of it. Not even my closest friend and younger sister, Elizabeth. Since she would so often guess who I liked, it merely taught me how to better hide my feelings and emotions.
Another cause of my introverted behaviour was a profound disgust I developed for flirtation. I despised the girls in my 8th grade gym class who would act weak and pathetic and giggle when they completely missed the ball just to “impress” the boys. I hated the false laughter, the flicking of the hair, the coy looks and the draping position – the one where girls drape themselves over the boy in a limp manner. It seemed so false. I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it. My inhibition forbid it.
You might ask how I had any hope of attracting my crush if I never showed the slightest inclination out of the ordinary toward him. As I was growing up, I knew that this boy who sat across from me in 6th grade geography, or that boy who was in 10th grade algebra, would invariably lose my favour, and then I was back to normal again. Why act on a crush when I knew it was just that, a crush? Temporary and very juvenile. I saved so much hassle, gossip, and most of all embarrassment by waiting out my crushes. I took tremendous pride in the fact that my crush of two months was sitting in front of me talking to me, and he would never know what I was feeling. I was smiling and casual and friendly – nothing out of the ordinary. Even Elizabeth lost her touch for finding out who I liked.
This is where my caution comes in. Dear ladies, do not get into this habit. For that is what it became, a habit. A habit I did not even know I had gotten into until it was too late. I grew up, I went to college, I graduated, and I still had had only short relationships where the boy/man liked me first. Sometimes I grew to like him, but I never got the opportunity of going out with a person that I liked first. I was just too afraid and too much in the habit of concealing my feelings. He would never know, and I would never get to go out with him. A sad state of affairs, you might admit.
It was bound to happen eventually though. I believe in fate enough to have faith that I would one day meet someone I liked and who liked me enough to ask me out. His name was Charles. A wonderful man. I enjoyed every minute I spent with him. We did everything together. I was so happy, so relaxed.
But I’ve told you already that I had a bad habit. Just because I was in a relationship I loved, doesn’t mean that habit went away. It was ingrown – I couldn’t help it. I loved this man, I really did. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, but I couldn’t seem to express it. He was very open with me, but I was too self-conscious to return that openness. I was still too inhibited, still too concerned with how it would look to the world. I wanted so very badly not to be seen as a flirt. I didn’t want people to look at me and think ill of me because I was kissing Charles, or laughing too much with him.
The saddest part, was that I didn’t even know this was a problem until he left me. Not left me in a dumped sense, but rather, he just gradually, sadly drifted away from me. It broke my heart.
Elizabeth was furious. She blamed Will, Charles’ best friend, but I knew it wasn’t Will’s fault. It was mine. My own damned fault for losing the love of my life. I feel like I might ease my guilt by telling you not to do the same. If I can just prevent one other case of acute inhibition from ruining another loving couple, my efforts will not have been in vain. Be yourself, not who you think you should be. Otherwise you end up like me: a very sad, lonely woman who wishes she had uttered just three small, but oh-so-significant words to her loved one.