Reverse Exhibitionism

Basic human needs. Food, clothing, shelter, health, sex, companionship. These are some of the most widely acknowledged. But there are a few others that are possibly, in their ways, nearly as intense as these, but that you will rarely if ever find mention of.

One of the latter category is a human need which I've noticed time and again over the years. And it is so seldom mentioned that I don't believe there exists a word in the English language that expresses it. It is this: the need to not stand out when one is in a public setting without the company of friends. In such situations, people's desire to just blend into the crowd, and not do or say anything that would attract any attention to themselves, seems to me as strong as any other human tendency I've ever come across.

To be sure, there are some words that come close, but none of them precisely captures the concept.

• Inhibition. This word too refers to a person holding back in a social setting. But when we call a person "inhibited", we are placing the source of restraint within the specific individual, whereas the phenomenon I refer to is situational, as well as universal.
• Conformity. This word captures the sense of wanting to blend in with the crowd -- but it connotes a certain positive sense of comfort derived from belonging with the group. In the trait I'm discussing, a person is not actively searching for any group identification -- in fact, they'd be just as content to be alone at home.
• Anonymity. While this word applies to a person seeking to minimize public recognition, it generally refers to a situation where one has in fact already accomplished something which warrants such recognition, which is not the case in the situation I'm describing.

If any of my dear readers can think of a word which more accurately captures the sense, or, even better, coin your own word, I'd be happy to hear from you.

At any rate, I see evidence of this human characteristic all the time. When we don't raise our hand in the classroom for fear of being wrong -- and this applies to adults no less than children. Or when we allow others to cut in line and don't say a word.

I know of a high school teacher who on one occasion deliberately spoke nonsense throughout an entire 40-minute class just to test the students' reactions. At the end of the period, he told his class: "I have just spoken utter nonsense for the past 40 minutes, and not one of you made the slightest attempt to challenge me."

But perhaps the most illustrative example I can think of is a story told to me by a friend of mine many years ago. For a period of time, every time I would see him, he would be studying to become an account. He scored so high on the qualifying examination that he stood first in the entire province of Ontario. It was only natural then that he subsequently open a school to train others for this exam. He would hold the classes in rented classrooms in colleges and so forth.

On one particular occasion, he showed up at the building where he was to give a lecture, located the classroom, and found his class waiting. So he began lecturing on some topic related to accounting. Perhaps it was tax loopholes for mid-size corporations. Or maybe it was on the implications of fiscal amortization on performance indicators.

Now if I recall correctly, he had a vague sense of discomfort in the room, but kept on lecturing. Finally, about twenty minutes into the lecture, some brave soul timidly raised his hand to ask a question.

"Yes", said my friend. "What is it?"

"Sir, is this the support group for gays seeking to renew family relationships?"

Oops.

It turned out that my friend had accidentally shown up in the wrong classroom, and had begun his accounting lecture in the classroom where the gay support group session had been scheduled. Presumably, in another classroom somewhere nearby, someone was speaking to a group of accounting students about reaching out and healing broken relationships.

As in many stories, the fascinating part of this one, of course, is trying to determine what was going on in the minds of those men who had come to get social and emotional support, and instead sat, silently and patiently, in that classroom for twenty minutes, listening to some man discuss audits, depreciation, debit and assets? Did they really think that what they were hearing was related to what they had come for, and that it was only a failure on their part to figure out the connection? Did they fear that they might embarrass the lecturer?

I claim that the answer to both questions is "nay", and that the true answer is that humans have a fierce need to not stand out in a crowd.

Call it reverse exhibitionism.

Do It Now!

When was the last time you:

1. Honestly, openly and respectfully listened to someone who expressed a viewpoint very contrary to your own, on a topic very near and dear to you, and let them continue uninterrupted till they had their say, and not felt a burning need to rebut them;
2. Laughed so hard at a funny joke that you literally, or at the very least figuratively, fell to the ground in unrestrained release;
3. Told someone who didn't know it that you really admire them;
4. Listened to a piece of music that takes you to a place which bears an uncanny resemblance to what your vision of heaven looks like;
5. Truly forgave someone who had hurt you deeply, even if they did not necessarily acknowledge or apologize for the hurt they caused you, because your relationship with them was more important to you than demanding perfection of them;
6. Finally, finally! took care of some annoying but quite important chore that you had been procrastinating over, for days, or even possibly weeks, or even possibly months, or even possibly years;
7. Experienced the beauty and sweetness of another human being's soul so strongly that you wept;
8. Looked at yourself in the mirror, smiled at yourself, and realized that you are a wonderful human being;
9. Read a book so creative and innovative that it produced a tectonic shift in your mental landscape, and changed the very way you perceive reality;
10. Ate a delicious treat so creative and innovative that it produced a tectonic shift in your mental landscape, and changed the very way you perceive reality.

It's All Good

One lazy afternoon, a number of years ago, I was at a friend's house, and we decided to rent a video. So we walked over to the video rental place a few blocks from my friend's house. It was not one of these mammoth chains, like Blockbuster's, with wall after wall after wall of video racks, teeming with thousands of offerings, but rather, a small place with a modest selection. There was just one woman there, who managed the place.

My friend and I began the familiar, and not unpleasant, process of perusing the rows, in search of something intriguing. Finally, I came upon a title that caught my eye. I asked my friend if he'd seen it, and he replied in the negative. But, the big question: was it any good?

We approached the woman who ran the store and asked her if she'd seen this particular movie. Her response:

"Oh, yes! Great movie! I really liked it. I think you guys would enjoy it."

Okay, that sounded promising. So we stored that video on our "potentials" list, and continued to browse. A few minutes later, my friend walked up to me holding a video he'd found, and asked if I'd seen it. Nope. So, once again, we approached the woman who ran the store and asked her if she'd seen this one.

"Sure! Now that is an excellent movie! Loved it!"

My friend and I were now quite pleased, because we now had two solid contenders. We continued to survey the scene, to see if there might be something yet better. After a few minutes, we found a third title, which we also showed to the woman.

"Fantastic movie! It was so good! Really funny! I laughed my head off!"

My friend and I exchanged glances, and shared a telepathic Hmmm. A definite pattern was emerging here. And, sho'nuff, our next inquiry elicited the same ultra-enthusiastic response from our movie maven.

Being scientifically minded, I decided to conduct an experiment. I told my friend to look for the absolutely worst movie he could find, and I did likewise. Presently, my friend and I came across a film that we'd seen together on a previous occasion. What a dud. Simply awful. The cough medicine of movies.

Our film connoisseur's reaction when we, with straight faces, presented this title for her appraisal? Unbridled excitement, bordering on hysteria, that made all of her previous reactions seem blasé.

"Ohh!! That is an amazing movie! The absolute best!! You guys are gonna love this one!!!"

Behold, like the proverbial boy who cried "wolf", the woman who cried "this movie is excellent".

We respectfully thanked our flick aficionado for her input and exited, stage left, with a selection of our own.

Running with The Dog

As a child, I had a great fear of dogs. Scratch that. Throughout most of my life, I've had a great fear of dogs. A Pavlovian fear: the very sight or sound of a dog would involuntarily trigger my panic reflex.

It seemed that almost every household on the small street where I grew up owned dogs. And these were not kind, friendly, man's-best-friend Lassie types. These were nervous, tense, angry, snarling, yapping mutts, who scared the bejesus out of me. I'm pretty sure that I was bitten at least once by one of them, although I may be confusing that with the time where one of the neighbor's kids bit me. Such was my imagination, though, that at one point, I had convinced myself that I had been bitten by every single dog on the street.

As stated at the outset, this fear remained an inextricable part of me throughout my adolescence and well into my adulthood. If I was walking on the sidewalk and someone walking a dog were to approach me, I would cross over to the other side of the street. When I visited a dog-owning friend, I would not set foot in the front door until I was assured that the dog had been locked away. As I said, I had a great fear of dogs.

Finally, in my late thirties, I made a conscious decision. I do not want to live like this anymore. I did not want this fear to be a part of my life any longer, to control and rule over me. I wanted to be free of this negative emotion. So when I visited a friend who owned a golden retriever, I made a point of insisting that he not keep his dog out of sight.

That first occasion, of the dog -- and it was not a small one -- greeting me at the door and giving me a full body hug, was as unnerving a moment as I've ever had. But, as they say, whatever doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. So with each subsequent visit to my friend's house, my fear gradually subsided.

And when I learned that my friend was going to be out of town for an entire month, and required someone to live in his apartment, in order to take care of the dog, I realize that this was my moment of truth. I accepted!

For the next month, I lived in my friend's apartment, and fed the dog daily, filled its water dish, walked it once or twice daily, combed it once a week, and periodically cleaned out the back yard of the little presents it would deposit.

Now after a couple of weeks of walking the dog, I began to be aware that it was perennially tugging at the leash, as if it wanted to go faster than the pace at which I was walking. Now I'm a big believer in not restricting others if there's no reason for it, so I thought to myself: If the dog wishes to walk faster, who am I to stand, so to speak, in his way? So I quickened my walking pace. And indeed, the dog quickened his as well.

But I soon noticed that even with this accelerated walking speed, the dog continued to exert a forward pull on the leash as it walked. Conclusion: it wished to go even more quickly. So dog and man hastened their pace even further. After a few more such adjustments, I found myself walking as fast as I could. And still, that forward tug persisted. So I shrugged my mental shoulders and shifted gears, going into a slow jog.

At this point, I didn't know any longer what to expect. After all, throughout my entire life, whenever I had seen a person out walking their dog, walking the dog was precisely what I would see. Walking the dog. Not jogging the dog. But jog the dog I did. (Say that ten times quickly.)

And by now, dear reader, you can guess the rest: of course, the dog's neck muscles still yanked on that leash, indicating that I was still holding him back. And of course, at this point, I finally realized what the dog had been longing to do all along: run! run! run! So two-legs broke out into a full sprint, and of course, four-legs did likewise.

And thanks to my uncanny canine telepathy skills, I can share with my dear readers what was going through the dog's mind at that moment:

Yes! I'm free! Finally! No longer bound by the constraints of plodding humans! Ah, this is the life! Running is where it's at! The joy of letting the muscles of my four legs pump at full capacity, feeling my entire body working! The wind through my fur. Hey, there's a cute beagle over there! She must be impressed with my running prowess, grace and stamina! Oh, please, let this moment never stop! Uhuru! Nirvana! Arf!

Every day after that, for the next two weeks, two-legs and four-legs ran together as one. I wonder if the other dogs that would see us on our daily run would get jealous, and start pulling ever more urgently on their respective leashes.

Only now, as I write this, do I wonder if the dog was bitterly disappointed when his master returned, and the daily run reverted to the daily walk. It never occurred to me to inform my two-legged friend of my unorthodox method of walking my new four-legged friend.

Happily, since this episode, my fear of dogs has for the most part subsided. I will admit that I am still not 100% at home with them, and possibly will never be, but I'm certainly able to be in the same space with dogs without that most unpleasant panicky feeling. And I've even actually played with dogs a few times, something I never thought I would ever do for most of my life.

After all, dogs are beloved by so many people around the world, so there must be something very special about them. We enrich our lives by recognizing the potential for positivity in the world wherever it may lie, and working at letting it into our lives.

An Exquisite Moment of Delight

I recall one day in high school, when I was in the eleventh grade, sitting in chemistry class.

Now ours was a small high school, both in terms of the student body and the physical size of the building. There were only about 50 students in the entire school, about a dozen students in each grade -- my own grade had a whopping 15 guys. Ours was an all-boys school; there was a sister-school for the girls, located about 2 miles away.

So back to chemistry class. Our chemistry class was held in a lab, as opposed to a classroom, which meant that instead of sitting at desks, we all sat on stools, around a counter area where we occasionally conduct experiments. So the proximity of each student to his neighbor was considerably closer than in a normal classroom situation.

Have you ever, out of the blue, had an exquisite moment of delight? Now absolutely nothing specific has happened to trigger it. But for some reason, you are enveloped by an intense feeling of joy. You are thrilled to be alive. You are tickled pink by the very fact that you exist! Your mind is flooded with the realization that here you are on this mind-boggling planet, with its myriad fascinating people, places, activities and experiences, and the pleasure of being a part of it all sends a payload of serotonin to your brain. The result: a wonderful burst of elation.

So there I am sitting in chemistry class, minding my own business, when all of a sudden my brain sends this spontaneous message to me: "Life is wonderful!" And why not? After all, it was a great period of my life. Unlike many people I have since encountered, for me high school 'rocked', as they say.

So seized was I by this surge of happiness that I felt a need to express it somehow. And, naturally, the instrument I chose to express my joy was to slap the classmate who was sitting on the stool next to mine square on the thigh, producing an entirely satisfying whack! That classmate was a very good friend of mine, and quite remarkably, he was not in the least angry or upset at my overzealous expression of enthusiasm. Evidently, he intuited what I was experiencing, and accepted it.

Not so my chemistry teacher. As a bit of background on him, let me share what I consider two defining incidents:

• In the previous year, the senior class actually had only three students. I kid you not. And only two of them took chemistry that year. One day, one of those two was absent, and so there was a grand total of just one student in chemistry class that day. At one point in the class, he had to excuse himself to go to the bathroom. Upon returning to class, he discovered that during his brief absence, the chemistry teacher had continued to lecture to an empty classroom.
• One day, on which I was blessedly absent, this same teacher conducted an experiment with my class involving chlorine gas. You know, the one used by the Germans in World War I, to poison the allied troops. At any rate, at one point during the experiment, several of my classmates told the teacher that they could smell the gas leaking. Nonsense! was the reply. It wasn't until a few of my classmates were actually lying on the floor gasping that he entertained the possibility that perhaps some gas had in fact leaked.

So this was not a man whose reaction to my exuberant outburst was going to be: "Ah! How special that one of my students is experiencing a moment of spiritual ecstasy!" No, what undoubtedly went through his mind was: "Geez! As if I don't have a tough enough time teach these kids a bit of chemistry, now I have to worry about these maniacs slapping each other?!" His rather irate reaction probably stemmed as much from fear as anything else. Ah, if only I could have made him understand that mine was simply an expression of good will and nothing else. How unfortunate that so often in life, a person's intent often diverges so widely from the manifestation thereof.

At any rate, I continue to experience exquisite moments of delight to this day. But, thankfully, I have since learned to express them in ways that would not alarm my chemistry teacher.

Pumping Irony

For a couple of years when I was in my early 30's, I belonged to a gym. While most of the members focused on weight-lifting, I was there almost invariably to use the treadmill. (My maximum speed was 9.6 mph -- my heart and lungs could have supported a faster velocity, but whenever I attempted to break that 9.6 mph barrier, I would get a pain in my groin muscles.)

The entire gym was, aside from the locker rooms, one large rectangular room, containing all of the various types of apparatus. It was not a huge place. There were probably about 50 people there on a good night, mostly men if I recall correctly. There were several regulars, who were in very good shape, able to lift prodigious amounts of weight.

One of them was a man with jet black hair, in his thirties, quite short. But what he lacked in vertical stature, he more than made up for horizontally: the muscles of every area of his body protruded, almost cartoonishly.

On one particular evening, he was really putting an all-out effort into his exercises, working his thigh muscles, if I recall correctly. Such was the level of his exertion that at one point, he began, with every "rep", to use the bodybuilder's parlance, to grunt very loudly. A few turned heads from various people around the room.

But that was just the overture. A few minutes later, these grunts exploded into full-blown roars of effort. Arrgghh! the man bellowed, with each expansion of his rippling muscles. Now every single person in the entire gym stopped working whatever muscle group they happened to be developing at that moment. The usual cacophony of grunts and gasps, moans and groans, huffs and puffs, and clanging of metal, as people worked their abs, pecs, lats and delts, ground to a halt. All eyes in the room were fixated on this man. If science ever discovers a medical breakthrough whereby men are be able give birth, I'm fairly confident that the resultant spectacle will look and sound very much akin to how this man did at that moment, as his entire body flexed, heaved and bulged.

Argh! His face has now metamorphosed from beet red to a dark purple.

Arrrggghhh!!!!! The cords standing out in his neck are so thick and prominent that you could tie a boat to a dock with them.

Arrrrrrrggggggghhhhh!!!!!!!!!! You swear that any second now, he is going to launch himself into orbit from the sheer effort he is exerting.

Finally, he sets down the weights, lowers himself to the ground, and implodes. He is spent, drenched with sweat. He lies there motionless, completely exhausted, eyes popping, gasping, as his lungs greedily take in much needed oxygen.

There is an awkward silence throughout the room. Somehow, there is a collective intuitive understanding that for everyone to just return to their regular routines after this display would be unseemly. Nobody knows what to say or do, or how to break the tension.

But I do.

I walk over towards the man, and stop about a foot away from him. And then, shaking my head slowly, in a tone of disappointment, say to him:

You know, if you're not even gonna try...