I am taking a speech communications class at my college this summer, and today we were expected to share a personal story detailing some transformative moment of our lives. If we were assigned any other topic, I would have been perfectly okay with this project. Talking about myself makes me want to jump off of a bridge. If we had been told to step before the class and share to the group as a whole, I would have been so much more comfortable. Sharing shit one on one also makes me want to jump off of a bridge. So naturally, the project called for us to share deeply personal issues with a single class mate as the rest of the class observed. Fun times! I think I did okay. I told the story of my family’s trip to Puerto Rico, which transpired days after my father was diagnosed with cancer. There were no tears, I got a few laughs, and I didn’t pass out. All of this equates to success in my mind, but I walked away quite shaken. It had nothing to do with the story, it had to do with who was my partner. This guy, we’ll call him Jack, struck me as the sweetest guy you could ever meet on day one. He was the perfect combination of friendly, funny, and the kind of awkward that doesn’t look like awkwardness, but makes you feel more comfortable. Then he started talking about toxic masculinity and his love of trees, and I confess, I started paying a little more attention. Today, he was my ‘listening partner’ as I told my story. We sat at a table set before the class, as had the pairs that went before us. Each of our predecessors watched kind of halfheartedly, nodding here and there as the speaker told us about medial issues, about run ins with the law, about academic struggles. But Jack. Lordy. He sat forward and really absorbed as I spoke. He took in my story, and the way he looked into my eyes (I know, gag.) actually made me uncomfortable. Not in a bad way, it was a lot like I had just swallowed a load of particularly rambunctious gerbils. It felt like he was looking right through me, and while I generally have no trouble with making eye contact, I found myself looking down, and out at the class instead of at him. What does this mean? I’m not entirely sure. But I’ll be paying attention to Jack from here on out.
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