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Eric’s Website

I suffered from painful shyness until I was well into my twenties, unsure of myself and almost physically unable to carry on a meaningful conversation with any member of the opposite sex.  I managed to cure myself, sometime between my marriages to Gail and Anne, mostly by bedding, or trying to bed, practically every female that I met.

I was not a sexual addict, just simply trying to improve my self-esteem by proving to myself (through what I felt was sexual acceptance) that girls actually liked me.  The cure was not painless and it left me with more than a few mental scars, but not nearly so many as the ones that I bore through most of my teen years.

I am no longer shy, and anything but a shrinking violet, but some of the old memories of the pathetic things that I did when I was young still haunt me – at least when I allow myself to dwell on them.  Tonight I remembered something I did during that time in my life that still causes me to pity myself and realize just what a loser that I was.

I was a freshman in geology at Northeast Louisiana and along on a geological field trip to northern Arkansas.  It was winter and we camped the first night on an Ozark mountaintop.  I had a sleeping bag but it was Louisiana-rated, and not meant for northern Arkansas in December.

That night, I survived by shivering.  I could not go to sleep because of the cold.  When dawn finally arrived, I was exhausted.  I dozed in the car’s backseat as we spent the day stopping at one geologic outcrop after the next.  By dark, we started back to Monroe, stopping at a roadside café for dinner.

The little café was family-owned, our waitress a young woman about my own age, and the daughter of the owners.  I cannot remember her name or much of anything about her except that she was attractive and had a friendly smile.

I never even spoke to her, except to order my hamburger, but listened as the other male students bantered and flirted with her.  We dined and departed, and that would have been the end of the story, except that I convinced myself that I saw something in her eyes.  Once back in Monroe, I wrote her a letter.

I didn’t exactly pour my heart out to her, but I did ask if she would go out with me if I drove up for a visit.  She probably would not have even known which one of us it was if I had not sent her a picture – a particularly nerdy photo from my high school graduation.  I was surprised, and even a little more anxious when I received a return letter from the young woman that I did not really expect.

She could have ripped my heart out and roasted it over a fire with her words; if she had wanted.  Instead, her letter was cordial, thanking me for my many compliments, but explaining that she had a steady boyfriend.  I was not exactly heartbroken though I did realize how pathetic that I was, hiding behind pen and paper instead of speaking with my heart and mouth when I could have.

Years have passed and old pains have numbed.  Once again, it is winter.  Although I’m not outside in a sleeping bag, I am still putting my thoughts on a page, or computer screen.  Still, no one has accused me of being shy lately, or even a little insecure.

As I keyboard these last thoughts, I realize that, just maybe, it is better to express yourself with written words than to keep them locked, like lonesome puppies, so deep in your soul that you can’t even hear them whimpering.

Eric’s Website