Yesterday I had an interview at work. Accordingly I got all dressed up to the nines in my suit and tie, completely forgetting that it was Halloween day for work and people were dressed up in costumes, not to mention it was casual Friday. The suit was interpreted by co-workers as a costume of some sorts which I was happy to perpetuate to offset any awkwardness I was wont to feel and was thus spared feeling uncomfortable in my clothes as an addition to my normal pre-interview nerves.
This post, oddly enough, isn’t about the interview or the suit so much as a conversation these two things led to. A coworker asked me how the interview had gone and the conversation touched on how out of place the suit felt which led to some very unexpected and very stirring comments of praise which I was not expecting. These comments, these very specifically worded comments, were not so much about my performance at work so much as about the person I am. Now, I don’t know about everyone else, but I tend to thrive on feedback and validation. I have frequently stated that I am a feedback-based life form. It is just one of the things that makes me tick. It may seem weak or strange or any number of things, but feedback – especially positive feedback – really makes me happy. This particular set of comments were very noteworthy for me though.
This year has been a very tumultuous one. I’ve left my comfort zone a great deal this year to get out and try new things, meet people and have fun in ways I haven’t tried before. I was met with a lot of successes and have made some new friends, rejoined with old ones, gained a roommate, and had fun outside of my normal activities and learned a lot. I was also met with a lot of failures. I lost a close friendship of mine, I managed to completely lose my nerve and creative drive behind sharing my coming out story, not to mention the fact that this was The Year of a Million First Dates. The successes have dramatically outweighed what I perceive as failures and really, most of these failures are not failures so much as negative experiences.
I’ve been very careful in not talking about dating here because the last thing anyone needs (including myself) is some god-awful, self-aggrandizing dialogue to pop up here after bad dates which is unflattering for every party involved. I will, however, take a moment to comment on The Year of a Million First Dates. This year I went on numerous first dates, almost all of which I considered to be very good dates with very promising people.
The problem is that in spite of the fact the other people involved would claim they also enjoyed the date, they would become very remarkably busy after having a reasonable surplus of time. Words like “soon” or even “very soon” would be used to describe when they would next be free to go out. The conversation would then peter and they would generally disappear. For people who went so far as to set a second date, an overwhelming trend of severe and debilitating stomach disorders kicked in. It was frustrating at first, then dependable, and ultimately quite humorous. I can confirm that one person did, in fact, contract a very dangerous and very real case of food poisoning but he was one of two people who made the second date. Twelve months and only two second dates.
I had been more than willing, almost eager, to try and find fault with myself for all of this. I very logically turned to the scientific method which would suggest that after so many failures and the one easily identifiable constant variable being myself, I was to blame. That was the simplest answer I could come up with. It was either that or being more of a homebody was saving me from getting the widespread radiation poisoning. (Homebodies FTW!) This isn’t a very healthy train of logic though. It’s the kind of thinking that starts to chip away at self-esteem and makes people begin to think very little of themselves. A couple months ago I determined that there was another simple answer which fit the situation better. There is something wrong with all of them, or to be more fair, some thing in each of them made them for a bad fit with me.
The people who matter in my life, the friends and people who remain constant and genuine, serve as a constant silent validation that I am a good person. I am thankful for them every day and relish the opportunities I get to spend time with them and speak to them. A couple of them give me very direct validation (both for feelings and my parking) when I’m down and need it the most. But yesterday, unbidden, this relatively new person in my life helped me put all the pieces together. He complimented me for being me, not compromising that in an attempt please others, and that being me was a good thing… What an awesome concept, one which can be forgotten all too easily. One that I must strive to never forget again.