reserve

I don't have any of this thing called reserve. It's odd, because I'm actually a little bit shy, it's just that I don't hesitate to tell you most of what I know about me. You won't know I'm shy, I manage quite well. But I've been thinking about this reserve thing for some time now, as a result of something Tony said a while back. Reserve is defined as "formality and self-restraint in manner and relationship; avoidance of familiarity or intimacy with others," but I think that puts a negative spin on something that's really quite admirable, if impossible for me.

I admire people who can hold back. They seem quite grown up and I often resolve to be more reserved and then I can't. I just can't do it. When I meet you, I want to know all about you and I am instantly interested whether you're the rough guy pushing the shopping cart on the street or the president of the bank where I keep my business accounts. I love people and I don't let anything like propriety or reserve get in the way of finding out all about you and what you are passionate about and who you are. I recognize that it's offputting to some, but I can't help myself. It is good that I live here, where that's more typical, because I'd surely be an outcast in Yankeeland.

My husband is reserved and he also suffers from that peculiarly male affliction of failing to get to the heart of matters important to me. I'm not trying to peg people or assign them to constricting boxes of expectation when I wonder about whether they're happy in life, with their work, whether they've got children, a great love, a passion for something in this world. I guess I'm seeking common ground, some way that we are able to connect, even if it's just that they are something I will never be and so I get to admire them and stand in awe of their accomplishments.

I don't understand how someone can tell Mike "I went to see a counselor" without him following up with "Really? Can I help in any way? Do you want to talk about what's going on?" It is foreign to me, not part of my personal culture to let a comment like that pass by as if someone were remarking on the weather. Maybe it's the social work training, or just my upbringing, because my sisters suffer from this affliction too.

I talk to people I don't know in public and folks often strike up conversations with me as well. Lunatics do this, too, and that is sometimes a drag, but generally, when I'm standing in line I'm talking to someone and appreciative of that, because it seems kind of lonesome to stand in a silent herd of humanity waiting for tickets or checkout or whatever.

But the flip side of all of that interaction is that I crave time alone, quiet, just me and a cup of coffee and my thoughts, a book. My reserved husband needs no such time. I know some of this is regionally influenced, some due to my upbringing, and some is wholly internal, this urge to know about you and who you are and what you think.

So. You? Reserved? Not reserved? What do you think had the greatest influence on your personality in this area? You know, tell me, tell me everything! I want to know. See? I can't stop it.