“I’ve made up my mind to find out all about you minutely. But as I have no one from whom I can find out anything, you must tell me everything fully yourself. Well, what sort of man are you? Come, make haste- begin- tell me your history” -Fyodor Dostoevsky’s “White Nights”.
If we were asked to tell our stories, would we tell it as it is? Would we be completely and bluntly honest as to tell that person everything that we have gone through and everything we have done, shamelessly? Would I be daring enough to unlock all clandestine secrets and things I have done in my past? Here are things I am not afraid to let anyone know:
I like my eggs sunny-side up. On my left foot I have two toes that are the same length. My hair is naturally curly. I have a mild obsession with pigs and or piggie banks (28 and counting). I prefer beer over liquor. I always wear earrings (even when I go to bed). I keep a tan all-year round (no fake bake; tanning lotions). My favorite movie is P.S. I love you and Cinema Paradiso. I am almost blind so I wear contacts at all times. I have had two boyfriends thus far. I have an amazing group of girlfriends. Although I have two older sisters, I never get to see them (one lives 4 hours away and the oldest lives in Chile). My parents are divorced. I despise orange juice (classical conditioning thing from my toddler years). I was a premature baby, only about 2 1/2 pounds (I know I don’t look like a premature baby!). My favorite book is Love in Times of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I am Chilean. I collect blazers. I only wear one ring on my right ring finger and it’s silver. I rarely wear gold jewelry. My eyebrows stop growing at times (they have their moods). My feet get abnormally hot at night so I never (even when it’s snowing) cover my feet when I sleep (I have never worn socks to bed). My first job ever was as a receptionist at Great Clips (when I was 15). I detest math (the hatred runs in the family). My first kiss was when I was 16 and it was extremely awkward.
Why am I comfortable telling you all this? Simply because it only tells you about me on the surface. Deep inside, I have been hurt, taken advantage of, used and deceived. If a suitor was to ask me to tell him my life and every detail of the moments that I have suffered the most, the peak of my vulnerability, or when I wept all night, the chances of me owning up to it are very slim. I would not be able to own up to being unfaithful, lying or hurting someone’s feelings. Would you live life with no shame? Would you keep doing the things you are doing, regrets aside, and later confess to it?
If I were to encounter a complete perfect stranger and were given the chance to tell our story, would we tell the truth?
Having the courage I would look at him straight in the eye, tell him my whole story, and never look away in shame; baggage and vulnerability included.