From today’s Daily Post comes the question as to whether or not I am a good judge of others’ happiness. Of course, the answer to this question is both yes and no. Universally I am unable to tune in to every individual’s emotion at any given time. But of those I know well, and that I love profoundly… I am able to have an inkling as to whether or not he or she is blissful, or wearing a facade to keep up appearances.
And being able to tell when it is the latter isn’t something that I feel boastful or proud of. On the contrary, it makes me sad. I could use a more flowery term for that, I’m sure, but really… knowing someone you love isn’t as happy as they seem… at times, I wish I couldn’t tell. I wish I could just believe that all is well. My intuition feels like more of a curse at times. Ignorance can be bliss.
The worst is when your lover attempts to feign interest. Amongst friends and family, he is attentive, on his best behavior. But you notice the shifty eye as you try to hold his gaze, his lingering glances at the opposite sex… especially to one female in particular. In your presence, he offers to get her drink, while forgetting (or is it?) to ask you what you would like. When this other woman is not around, he constantly holds hour-long text marathons when he thinks you aren’t paying attention. How–at your touch of his hand–he slightly pulls back. Laughter is forced, if any occurs at all.
But you, of course, are paranoid. Simply a jealous female. And even if it is true, it’s your fault. If you weren’t so needy, pushy, clingy, so on and so forth, this wouldn’t be happening. If you did this, if you did that…
I know how this goes. I’ve experienced it firsthand, and it destroys me when I see someone else going through it–male or female. No one deserves to go through that. And when I can sense it happening to someone I love, and I gently ask if everything is all right, only to be told that, yes, of course, everything is fine… It’s excruciating. I do my best to keep my mouth shut and respect their privacy. I hope that those I love know that, if need be, I will be there as a quiet confidant.
I do though, feel transcendentally happy when I sense the intoxicating joy that clearly is no farce. The sparkling eyes, the stretched out Cheshire Cat grin. I can’t help but be elated in such circumstances. There is little better than seeing someone you love so sunny.
Alas, then there comes the part of my entry in which I say my intuition is feeble. And it–of course–involves dating. Because when I am interested in someone, my senses are shot. I generally am on my guard when first meeting someone, but once that goes down, I am defenseless.
And then I am awkward.
Oh! If only there were some sort of magical way in which I could tell that a member of the opposite sex that has captured my fancy felt similar! I could be laid back, which is my natural demeanor. In fact, I was told just this morning by a co-worker that I’m the most relaxed person they’ve ever met. If only when it came to affairs of the heart. But when a man has captured my attention, and I wish to know more, my brains and astute logic seem temporarily misplaced. It is only when I am hit over the head with the proverbial man club and dragged off to his man-cave by my hair that I realize, “Oh! I guess he is interested!”
Since I know there is no steadfast fix to my unrefined dating skills, I shall, for the meantime, concentrate on who will win the A.L. Central. Because I am tired and my mind is only able to function like a bewildered female for so long. Eventually my more manly tendencies win out and I have peace once again.
Now, how about those Royals?