There is a lot that I hate about myself. More than the average person. But I seem to compensate that by acceptance. By my being thankful that as a person, I’m not worse. There’s many a gentle guy out there, who hides it by a rough exterior and overflowing masculinity. Problem is, I don’t.
Maybe I can be a hypocrite when times call for it, but never about giving people the wrong impression about me. I have flaws of my own, and it’s sometimes a problem that I display these flaws. Proudly. This comes from my avoidance of being a conformed, indoctrinated sheep like most people are. I don’t follow the flock blindly, believe, or do something just because so many people are, including fashion. I think for myself. If it’s logical, I’ll do it. If it’s right, I’ll do it. If it isn’t, I won’t.
One of my greatest flaws that I hate so much is gentleness bordering on the extreme. Not being gentle is like force feeding others a bitter, sugarless tea. But being too gentle, is like forcing on them too much sugar. Unless you have an insatiable sweet tooth for dealing with good people, you’ll think that this level of kindness, goodness, sensitivity and sincerity borders on icky tacky stickieness. You may even think if I’m faking it. I wish.
This level of gentleness comes with many big fat qualities that, unless you’re living in a utopia, are big flaws. If you’re wondering what it is like, it looks like this:
Almost naiive kindness: with sayings like “The kind ones have no share” it gets pretty obvious of the fact that a degree of selfishness and unkindness is rewarding. It can even be a requirement. Too much kindness can make you fail to see the potential evil in people unless I force myself to see it.
Lack of Aggression: a characteristic of being a male is to be aggressive. Even the male hormone itself encourages it. There is a healthy dose of aggression that should be displayed. How I wish I had the “don’t mess with me” aura. Instead, all my life in school, in spite of a fairly strong build, I had something like a sign on top of me saying “I’m wide open, bully me”. However, I’m lucky that my strength made me make a point of not being bullied. Bullies knew to steer clear away from me after a good beating, but I hate the fact that I was a target in the first place. The same kid is now a man; this lack of aggression and kindness give me a degree of passivity and insecurity.
Sensitivity and insecurity: as a result of being a target, even in adulthood, you become insecure. Kindness makes people walk all over you. Doing my best to avoid being walked over makes me quick to misinterpret people, triggering negative behavior. Sensitivity is born. I’m not talking about the useful at times side of sensitivity of romance or passion (that does not mean I lack that, either). I am talking about the insecure kind of sensitivity.
The feminine side: If it isn’t obvious that I’m in touch with my feminine side, I don’t know what is. I’m an example of a sissy. Perhaps not to the point of being homosexual (I’m straight by the way), but my overflowing gentleness led my wife-to-be to say something like “you’re the woman in this relationship”. Perhaps this explains my appreciation of tomboys. All the girls I’ve ever been with were either tomboys, or bordering on being one. I think they complete me like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
I really wish I did not have to write this. Perhaps it shows some courage in me that I’m not afraid to admit my flaws, making my insecurity a not so hopeless case after all. But I don’t like being an “emasculated, infantile complainer” to quote Kurt Cobain’s suicide note. The idea is that this is my first entree in my writers’ challenge “30 days of truth”. Today was “something you hate about yourself”. So the point of this is not to complain. For you, it is to give you experience. For me, it is to share, to release, and to breathe.