Illiterations: Laughing At My Own Expense

What would we women do without the guys on the fringes? The men who love us unconditionally even knowing that we will probably never go out with them. The men who see us for who we really are while we are busy chasing the bad boys; the players; the guys who are going to take advantage and then forget about us. But then those men on the fringes... they're the real ones. They aren't poster boys for Chippendales or the firefighter calendar, but they are there for us and we lean on them. The Fringe guys. They prop us up when we are falling apart. They remember our birthdays and the day that our pet passed away. They remember our favorite color and they want to brighten our day almost every day. They love us and when we make excuses for why we won't date them they believe our excuses. They listen to our conscience-easing excuses, and they hope that they can believe the maybe of it. We say maybe and they hear yes when we mean no. And all of that keeps it going round and round, ov...

Nobody ever thinks the person they fall in love with is pretending. Nobody thinks that the person that is "their person" is lying. Imagine meeting somebody so deeply invested in lying about their most primal reality that they are unable to see the truth themselves, possibly. Imagine that person pursuing you; cultivating a romantic life with you; asking you to marry them. How could you tell? How would you know when that person that took many years convincing you to fall in love with them was telling a lie? Then imagine spending another 10 years with that person. Imagine investing in a life; in each other's families; and in businesses and dreams. When all of the trappings are set up to be exactly what they're supposed to be, and all of the interactions with family and friends seem to be what anybody would dream of; how would you know? And, as the years pass and the carefully constructed stories and facades stop supporting the weight of the mounting troubles; do you know...

Many people wouldn't know it because I hide it well, but I am a highly sensitive person.  Grrrr, I grit my teeth as I write that, because I find that to be one of those statements that can be applied perhaps more liberally to explain things away (i.e., make excuses or avoid responsibility for something else).  Kind of like ADD has been painted on many, or used by many, as a handy explanation for occasional, or off-handed, inattentive behavior. Most highly sensitive people would not choose a profession like mine -- real estate -- and that's a very valid point.  It's been my struggle to be this way and to be in my business.  On reflection though, life in general has been hard, with respect to the life of a highly sensitive person.  As a kid, I was always the odd kid out.  I was the one bullied and even tortured by a few select individuals.  I never understood why, but I supposed that since bullying has no "appropriate" reason to exist, why would I ...