WHAT DO YOU DO WITH A TOO-FRIENDLY SHY GUY?

Just a reflection to start out. Beyond that, this post will develop itself as I write it. I do not have an ending in mind.

Back when I was about four years of age, I used to sit on the front steps of our home, beside two empty bottles with 75 cents  in them, waiting for our milk to be delivered by horse and wagon. The delivery man was a fellow by the name of Grant Whitmarsh.

One day Grant met my mother at the front door and in a hushed tone said "Too bad about your boy!"

"What do you mean?" was my mother's surprised reaction.

"Am I wrong in assuming that he is deaf and dumb?" Grant replied hesitatingly, going on to explain that every day he made it a point to speak to me but I had yet to acknowledge him in any way. "He never answers me back, never says a thing...It's as if he does not hear me."

"Oh, he hears you alright," my mother assured Grant..."He's just terribly shy!"

Me and my mom.

My mother's remark was an understatement. I WAS painfully shy! No one could pull me out of my shell. That was a job for me alone and it took almost a lifetime. I'm still pulling to a degree.

Perhaps it was destiny that I would be the only child born of parents in their late 30s and early 40s. I really do not know. What I do know is that I have always been my own best company (worst enemy?) and have learned to consistently step out of my comfort zone in order to be sociable and to function in a chosen communications environment which otherwise demanded the utilization of personal skills and interests.

Certainly, I have found out the hard way that shyness is a psychological state that causes a person to feel discomfort in social situations in ways that interfere with enjoyment or which cause avoidance of social contacts altogether. I have fought it and compensated for it all my life. Evidence also suggests a genetic component to shyness and studies on the biological basis of shyness have shown that shyness in adults can often be traced as far back as the age of three, as in my case.

As my life unfolded, I learned ways of overcoming shyness and feeling comfortable in my own skin but it was a slow process, along the way often being seen as aloof and stuck-up. Through it all, however, was a strong inner desire to be accepted and liked but often left with a feeling that I was falling short of expectations -- mine and others. I longed to be outgoing like other kids and was conscious of my awkwardness. Something as simple as greeting others on the street was a big issue for me and I would practice privately at saying a convincing "hi" as opposed to the stiff and formal "hello" which was often the best I could come up with.

After strained conversations, I would think of a dozen things I could have said and would rehearse responses for possible future applications. Spontaneity did not come naturally. It was hard work overcoming personal shortcomings in the unnatural yet chosen environments of retail clothing sales, newspaper reporting, and ultimately professional communications and public relations.

I understand now (too little too late perhaps) that my formative modus operandi may have been faulty and ill-conceived. Because I lacked siblings in real life (for some reason I would have given my eye teeth for a big sister), I began to accept others as the brothers and sisters I never had and approached them from that perspective. And for a period that actually worked for me. That is, until a new issue presented itself...I frequently bridged the relationship gap too quickly and before the other party(s) really got to know me sufficiently. In short, I became too friendly too fast, saying and doing things that were not necessarily accepted in the manner in which they were intended.

Along the way I had to realize that "I am kind of a funny guy" and that humor was a great ice breaker. To this day, however, I have to remind myself that there is a fine line between teasing and sarcasm, and a little of both goes a long way.

Succinctly, I didn't know how to be half friendly any more than I knew how to be a brother.

I too frequently lose potential friends because of the things I say, or the way I say them, and I die a thousand deaths with each would-be relationship that falls by the wayside. Facebook in particular has been a source of grief and unfortunate misunderstanding for me. And again, I am left second-guessing myself and wondering how I might have said something better or differently. Worse yet, a new twist question has been added to my conundrum...Would it have been better if I had not said anything at all?

But that takes me full circle, doesn't it? Not saying anything at all, like when I was four years of age.

Some of us, I guess, are destined to go through life not completely understanding -- and not completely being understood.

It is a lonely reality.

But why can't we all just be brothers and sisters? Or friends, at least -- concessionary, caring, comfortable, supportive and 'hug' conducive.