I don’t know what you think about being open to others, and here I mean strangers as well, but openness of this kind is my natural reaction, much to the distress of my wife, who is Thai. Thais belong to that group of Orientals that we in the West like to describe as inscrutable.
And that is true, they do not give much away on their faces unless they know you, but that is also much like the hierarchy in most countries, I think.
I, however, am willing to tell almost anyone almost anything.
My wife is not the only person in my life who has found this frustrating about me, a lot of people have including my father and several girl friends over the decades. Not that I ever said anything about them, just too much about myself and why I do things. Like writing this post, I suppose.
I have never understood why they object to my being frank though.
I don’t reveal other people’s secrets and I don’t talk about my sex life, so what is the problem with honesty?
It reminds me of those who are less than house-proud and won’t invite anyone in because they are ashamed of the state of the place. I am not ashamed of what I am or do. I am not trying to make myself out to be anything special, because I don’t think that I am, but I am not ashamed of not earning much money, nor of having a Spartan house or not owning a car.
Perhaps, that was an early tell-tale that I would become a writer one day. It certainly seems like it looking back, because all stories have something of the teller in them, but part of the skill of the (self-conscious) writer is being able to cloak the revelations so well that no-one can see them.
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All the best,