I was speaking to a friend a couple weeks ago and she told me, "I never make the same thing for dinner, that's how I express my creativity."
Really? I thought to myself, you're stuck in the seventies and are one of the least creative people I know.
Why is there such a disconnect between the way we view ourselves and the way others see us? Remember what you thought the first time you heard your voice played back to you? That couldn't possibly be what I sound like! Uh, yeah, that's kinda how you sound...and how you look in pictures? Well, pictures don't lie, maybe it's time to lay off the chips and maybe get a new hairstyle.
I remember the first time a friend described me to me. "Well, you know, you're kinda aloof."
"Me? I'm so friendly!"
"Hm, nah, but you're very nice once you get to know you."
Ouch. But I did see her point and have made great strides (I think) in keeping a smile pasted on my face. Oh, and we're still friends.
A week ago a matchmaker friend of mine held a mixer for singles in their early thirties in her home. She's quite successful, and a few of us joined her to act as facilitators. We mingled, pulled wallflowers into conversations and made introductions when people were looking awkward. Some of the men had game...others, not so much. It was a mob of of 150 singles, but all of us (married) assistant matchmakers noticed one guy. He was wearing a velvet blazer, and pants that fit very snugly. Instead of his full name on his nametag, he had the letter "Z."
"Did you see...?" my friend asked. "Zorro?" I answered. Yup, you got the idea... and every woman there was interested in him.
One woman was wearing a very short skirt and had long flowing blond tresses (Paris Hilton wants her hair extensions back)... and every guy wanted her.
"Did you see...?" my friend asked. "Lady Godiva?" I answered. This pair might as well had I'm not husband/wife material tattooed on their foreheads. I think they left together.
As the evening wound down, we did one final circuit of the room. My friend walked up to a nebbishy accountant, but super nice guy--perfect husband material. "Is there anyone here you haven't met? Can you pick out someone that I can introduce you to?" He pointed at Lady Godiva. "Listen, why don't you pick someone else?" He seemed bewildered, but after much prodding he selected a sweet dental hygienist with a toothy smile. "Great, stay right here, I'll bring her right over."
I walked up to a nicely-dressed man who had seemed shy during the party...I wanted to be certain he had enjoyed himself. He assured me he had. "So, how about Sarah? She's a molecular biologist and visits sick people in the hospital on the weekends," I offered.
"Hm," he said, whipping out his BlackBerry. "Someone mentioned her to me...yes, here she is, Book 12."
"Excuse me, do you...is that...did you download your little black book?" I stammered.
"Sure, what's wrong? She's not for me. But it was a nice thought."
At least I knew where I stood with "Z."