My Charm Offensive

The selection of good mate involves some interests and values in common, and other characteristics that make a nice contrast.

My fiancée, for example, is a friendly person. I am not. I'm not mean, or rude, or unforgiving. I wish nothing but a giant blast of sunny happiness for the rest of humanity. I'd like to think that, were there only enough inflatable swimming vests for the children, I'd be at the rail, waving at the life boats, drinking a Guinness, and making dark comments as the ship sank ever lower.

Friendly just isn't my bailiwick. So my fiancée, whom I adore for countless reasons, has been enlisted in part because she is insanely friendly, and pulls it off in a way that I don't find irritating.

She could take a 20 minute ride on a city bus, and by the time she got off at her stop she would have shared several meaningful stories with strangers (with whom she'd be on a first-name basis), helped somebody better understand their relationship with a spouse, and brightened the day of the elderly and differently-abled. Small kids would burst into tears as the bus pulled away. Years later she would still receive thoughtful Christmas cards from half the passengers.

Maybe I exaggerate. But only slightly.

She likes me for my curmudgeonly self. But I want to make some modest changes, and learn the powers of charm. My east coast veneer has remained un-cracked by years of breezy Ohio bonhomie. So I have resolved to try to become better at small talk, and saying that important, dumb friendly crap.

Yesterday I tried it out, while at the grocery store buying a pie. I was asked by the checkout lady if I found everything without any trouble, so I blared back at her: "WELL, I SURE FOUND THIS PIE!" A silence ensued, during which we stared at one another awkwardly.

I realized I'd blown it. I've got to keep trying.