My mirror has two faces

Sometimes there’s a difference between what sort of a person you believe yourself to be and the sort of a person everybody else thinks you are.

I try to be a good person. Really, I do. As a general rule I’m outwardly pleasant to most of the people I meet (except for the klutz who pushed me in line for the bus this morning). However I’ve never formally introduced everybody to what I call my bitter and twisted inner voice. It lives happily in my head and it really isn’t very pleasant at all. I still say good morning, or, hold the door for a complete stranger whilst smiling sweetly, but sometimes I’m thinking – God what a horrible suit, or, could you hurry up please I really don’t have all day you know. I’ve always thought that’s how everyone’s head operated. I’ve assumed they’re all doing exactly the same straight back at me in equal measures (I see you’ve not managed to lose any weight then, still can’t believe you’re screwing that hot chef, and so on).

Last week I was asked by a tutor friend of mine to give a presentation about creativity to an evening class full of enthusiastic mature students at a night school. Rather than names on badges I noticed they’d been specifically asked to write two words on a sticky label to reveal their personalities. During the coffee break I found myself chatting to a blonde called, Vivacious Fun, and a guy with a very intense stare called, People Person. It struck me how they really didn’t live up to their labels. She wasn’t the life and soul of the party, and the guy with the stare turned out to hate everyone in the room.

I told Guido all about it when I got home to the café.

“When I began high school,” I said, “a sheet of paper with our names on it was passed around my classmates and we were told to write underneath two words to illustrate our first impressions about one another.”

“Why do I get the feeling this is one of your stories which ends horribly and you’ve been mentally scarred by it for the rest of your life?” said Guido warily.

“Well, naturally I was heartbroken to read that someone had scribbled under my name, Total Wacko,” I said shrugging. “But what could I do?”

“I guess their first impression about you was wrong,” said Guido diplomatically. What else could he possibly say?

“Yeah, but, no.” I said. “You see it’s true, underneath I am a total wacko so whoever wrote that was actually very astute for an eleven year old.”

“All I know,” Guido said lounging on our sofa in a pair of super tight boxer shorts, “is if I had to write two words on a sticky label that best described me right now I’d be totally honest about it. No kidding. No lies. Total undiluted truth.”

I knew Guido was trying to make me feel better.

“I believe you,” I said, “so what would the two words be?”

I cynically braced myself for something altruistic like, Amazing Chef or Under-rated Footballer, or as is much more closer to the truth, Sex Maniac.

Lucky Guy,” he smiled.

That’s the great thing about Guido. What you see is what you get.

Advertisements

42 thoughts on “My mirror has two faces

  1. Guido is a lucky guy. I know that I see myself differently than my husband sees me. Two words to describe me would be strong realist. Two words to describe you are wonderful writer. Hugs to you and Guido.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. He is soo right and as for what the eleven year old wrote “the best people are” because you definitely have to have a dose of insanity to be able to create and love in a world were hate was the raised flag

    Like

  3. I would choose clumsy clot for my words! There is no way I would ‘big myself up’ in that sort of situation.
    Guido sounds the ‘perfect catch’ to me. What with being a sex maniac and a good cook, you are both lucky men! 🙂

    Like

  4. “Rather than names on badges I noticed they’d been specifically asked to write two words on a sticky label to reveal their personalities. ”

    How loathsome this sort of thing is.

    Takers of classes these days seem to think it is their business to force students into various kinds of games, self-revelations and unsought interactions. I know a choir teacher who has the singers pretending to be fireworks and having conversations with their neighbours in the highest voices they can manage and massaging shoulders. All utterly mortifying and possibly indicative of fascist leanings.

    Like

  5. Do ‘a’, ‘an’, and ‘the’ count as possibles in the pairs of words? I should hope so, if you can also use hyphenated ones! [You craft (“with skill and careful attention to detail”) the best posts in the sphere. Seriously.]

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s