I am observing someone, and apparently I’m as flummoxed as the person I’m observing.
The person I’m observing seems outgoing, friendly, carefree. He is always surrounded by friends and colleagues, never a dull moment in his social circle, though he might not think so. It’s not who he is on the inside, though. Inside, there’s intense passion but it’s tightly bound by his shyness in personal situations. In matters of the heart, he is terrified to make a move…or a mistake.
I’d love to give him a hug—the kind I might give a shy little boy—and tousle his hair and tell him he’ll be fine, just fine, but he has his pride and I would not wound him. So I watch, I observe, without ever yelling at him to buck up or chiding him for his feelings. I understand better than he might think.
I observe the shyness, find it endearing even. There’s a charm to it…or would be if he would get close enough for me to see it better. That’s the paradox of it: such a sweet and heart-warming shyness that colors his affections and yet it paralyzes him when so much warmth is waiting for him in the world.
So the question nags at me. How does one become more aggressive in his own behalf? Particularly when he would not be left wanting?
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