Conversation, for Susan, revolved around "the real." If a friend, in a fickle mood, happened to depart from "the real," conversation was neither desirable nor possible for Susan. She saw no point in remaining physically available for discourse, as only pretense would result. Pretense repelled her at the most fundamental level of her being.
What, exactly, was "the real?" "The real" was the true essence of the person. Susan knew "the real" of a person by the way the person's features relaxed deeply into his face, making way for the soul to come forth; by the fluidity and pace of his speech; by the absence of darting eyes and nervous or pointless gestures; by the way the person "sat" habitually in his own body.
A person, after all, could visibly remove "the real," temporarily wishing it away and adopting a new persona for purposes of social melding. This practice was routine, Susan could not help but notice, to social butterflies, manipulators, and the more insecure types. The minute the telltale signs of "persona change" emerged in group scenarios, Susan no longer bothered feeling dismayed. She accepted the loss instantly, moving on to someone more genuine or -- ignorance being bliss -- to someone she did not yet know. This worked well for pain control.
(To be continued . . . . . )
(To be continued . . . . . )
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