“Knock Knock.” “Who’s there?”

“Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow?”

“That would be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Aye, there’s the rub.  “Are you sure?”  The words are polite, the intent pure, but the implications to a relationship are as perilous as a poisoned dart.

The problem is that we are taught to be “polite” at the expense of being real.  If you think you might “hurt” my feelings your answer will be “nice” and not authentic.  No wonder we have this vague feeling that something important is missing in our relationships.  That “something” is us.  We engage in a modern version of human sacrifice in which the humans who are sacrificed are you and me.  I, for one, am not willing to participate.

Why should you and I be real? Why should we choose that over “good manners,” which are one lubricant for human interaction?  Because being authentic reduces the nagging uncertainty (“What does he really think?) that creates much human friction. Here are several reasons:

• I quote Martha, a close friend of mine.  “Suppose they gave a life and nobody came?”  Are you really here with me, or am I dealing with a cartoon which you project onto the screen of my mind?  There is a difference between Mickey Mouse and a real mouse.
• Being authentic produces a better result.  I learned this when I was sixteen years old at Boy’s State.  My friend Pete was running for state treasurer.  He delivered an outstanding and erudite speech to 500 boys.  (Pete ended up at Cal Tech.)  His opponent was a scrawny kid whose hands were shaking as he approached the mic.  “Pete’s won,” I thought.  “This kid is terrified”.  Pete’s opponent stared at the audience for a long time, and finally blurted out, “I . . . I . . . I’m scared.”  The boys clapped.  Then they cheered, applauding his authenticity.  Pete lost in a landslide.  The other candidate was real.  We all wanted to help him.  (Please do not discuss this example with any politicians.  You know what you will get from them, and it will not make your day.)
• Being real saves time and heartache.  Years ago I asked a girl to go out with me.  “Sorry,” she said, “I go for guys who are six foot three and blonde with blue eyes.”  “Well,” I said, “I can do something about being blonde haired and blue eyed, but I don’t think I can manage six foot three.”  She was authentic, and though I was disappointed she did save both of us considerable time and emotional turmoil.
• Authenticity makes you your own best friend.  Martha wrote, “I have for so long not been true to a self which must be in me somewhere, I fear I have lost it.”
• Being real builds trust, which is an essential foundation for an intimate relationship.  Disappointment is transitory.  Trust endures, refreshed every time I believe you.  This is why I never ask, “Are you sure?” I trust you to be truthful with me the first time.  If you’re not honest with me, shame on who?

When you think about it you will find many ways to be both real and supportive.  You just have to act, rather than automatically react.  You might say, “I’d like to spend time with you, but only have thirty minutes for lunch tomorrow.  How about dinner on Saturday?”

You can run from yourself, but you can’t hide.  The person chasing the fake “you,” which you yourself have created, is the real you, desperate to be known. I will be authentic with you, perhaps not always “polite.”

Would you still like to have lunch with me tomorrow?

Alan

P.S.  The answer to the “knock knock” joke is:

“Alan.”

“Alan who?”

“Alan.”