If Katie came to me and told me that she had met someone who clearly didn’t like her, I would hold her close, reassure her that we love her, and tell her what any mother would tell her child–that not everybody she would meet in her life would like her. I would also encourage her to surround herself with those people who appreciate her and not to worry about the rest.
But when it happened to me yesterday? I found myself hurt, insecure, and confused.
As hard as I try, I’m just not the kind of person who can just shrug something like that off. I want people to like me. I wish I didn’t, but I do.
So, as it grew more and more apparent that this woman didn’t like me, I did the only thing that I could think to do. I kept talking, pushing myself on her, thinking that if she got to know me she would see that I’m a good person and would come to like me.
And the harder I tried, the more I could see her physically bristle. She bristled, people!
I don’t know why she didn’t initially like me. I’ve replayed our meeting and I can’t recall saying or doing anything offensive or rude.
I’m not sure that I can blame her in the end, however. By the time we parted ways, I didn’t like myself all that much either. I went from confident, excited, and strong to insecure, needy, and pathetic.
I have to find a way to shake it off. Odds are good that I’ll cross paths with her very rarely.
Why does it bother me so much? Why do I feel the need to make sense of this?
And why can’t I be the kind of person who just doesn’t care?