To Be or Not To Be (authentic) -
That is The Question

I must confess, growing up, I never much cared for team sports.  I’m not just saying this because I was one of those uncoordinated nerds who couldn’t catch a fly ball exiled to right field.  On the contrary, I was a pretty good athlete and usually one of the first picked for a team.  But I played team sports and pretended to enjoy it, not because I wanted to, but to fit in.  I was too scared to be authentic and say, “sorry guys, I don’t really feel like playing.” 

Men also struggle with being authentic.  Some often hold back their tears fearing other men will accuse them of being a girly man, but that’s because men confuse feeling vulnerable with being weak.  If men were true to themselves they could admit that when their wife leaves them for another man they feel hurt, but no, guys would rather get pissed off and look to beat up their wife’s paramour. 

In the five years I’ve run my Relationship Support Group, dating is one of the most popular topics discussed.  But what continues to perplex me is people’s reluctance to be authentic on dates. I encourage members to “practice” being the kind of person they want to be, in the hope of helping them become more authentic.  So often they complain of how they couldn’t be who they really were when married - like challenging their ex’s decisions - out of fear their spouse might divorce them.  Now that they’re single and looking for a new partner, their excuse for not being authentic is feeling afraid that the guy or girl they like won’t date them if they are who they really are.  Isn’t that taking a step backwards?

So what exactly does it mean to be authentic?  Isn’t it the same as being open and honest?  Well, not exactly.  Being authentic is a different animal altogether. You can be open and honest with others and still not be authentic.  Let’s say a couple, we’ll call them Ray and Cindy, meet online and plan to go out for dinner, their first date.  Being polite, he invites her to select the restaurant.  Cindy, who is equally polite, if not conventional, tells him she doesn’t care - his pick - and so Ray suggests the latest up-scale, trendy, sushi restaurant. 

During dinner, they share a bottle of merlot and chat. Actually, he does most of the talking - about himself - trying to impress her with how much money he makes after having read in some back issue of Esquire that financial security is what most women look for. Cindy listens, wondering how long it will be before he asks her some questions about herself, but that never happens. Oh well, she thinks, at least he maintains good eye contact, something her ex-husband never did, except for when he checks out every woman who walks past their table.  Walking to her car, Ray says what a fun evening he had and hopes they can do it again soon. But after five days of not hearing from him, Cindy agonizes over whether to call him to find out why he hasn’t called, replaying in her head what a “fun time” he said he had.  Four of those days are spent polling her girlfriends on what to do, but this doesn’t help since the advice ranges from “don’t you dare call him” to “what do you have to lose, giv’im a jingle.”    

In reviewing this close encounter of the dating kind we see how being open and honest is not quite the same as being authentic.  When Ray suggested they go for sushi, Cindy failed to mention she is highly allergic to fish, but decided not to say anything thinking she could always order beef teriyaki. Why run the risk of scaring off Ray who obviously must love sushi?  Unbeknownst to Cindy, Ray too doesn’t much care for sushi, ever since becoming a vegetarian, which explains why he ordered a tofu salad, vegetarian hand rolls and edamame.  He wanted Cindy to think he was young at heart and since his grown daughter loves sushi, he thought this was a good way to convey how hip he still is.

Even before their date, Cindy worried about the dinner conversation.  Her ex-husband accused her of talking too much and always about herself.  Ironically, she felt the same about him, but took it to heart and made every effort to be quiet and let Ray talk, trying to impress him with what a good listener she was, not to mention wanting to prove her ex wrong.  But as she sat there, hearing Ray drone on and on about himself, she felt like she was sitting across from her ex. 

Ray was equally worried about what they would talk about over dinner.  He was naturally pretty quiet, in part because he was shy, but his ex told him he was boring.  She complained how she always had to carry the conversation. Ray was so self-conscious of not wanting to repeat this mistake, that in preparing for the date, his very first since separating from his wife of twenty-six years, he actually rehearsed what he planned to talk about over dinner.

Ray was so nervous by the end of the date that as he walked Cindy to her car, he already convinced himself she didn’t have a good time and would never go out with him again. This explains why he didn’t call her after five days.  But he was wrong.  She did have fun, and except for Ray looking at other women, which reminded Cindy of how her ex cheated on her and ran off with her best friend, she hoped Ray would invite her out again.

So, there you have it. Neither exactly lied to the other, nor were they especially closed or dishonest, but they were not truly authentic or genuine with each other. They did not reveal their true selves. If they had, Ray would have chosen another restaurant more to his liking and Cindy would have said she was allergic to fish and preferred something other than sushi. 

Over dinner, Ray might have mentioned this was his first date and how worried he was that being shy would be misinterpreted as lack of interest, instead of monopolizing the conversation.  Cindy might have let him know she felt uncomfortable with him glancing at other women and that his incessant talking about himself made her feel he wasn’t much interested in getting to know who she was.

Being authentic is difficult, especially when we convince ourselves that no one will like the real us.  But the alternative is equally difficult; pretending to be something we’re not, believing others will like us better.  How long do we continue the charade, and when we grow weary of not being who we truly are, how do we explain who we’ve become? Isn't this who we really were in the first place, only we didn’t want anyone to know?

To be, or not to be authentic should not be a question.  It should be obvious.