I’m good at reading people. Not in the current vernacular and how I put it in the title (though I can do that as well. I just mostly keep it to myself), but in knowing them better than they know themselves. Back when I actually worked around people, I was able to tell when they were pregnant before they revealed it to other people. My best friend, too. We were at a bar, and I just blurted out that she was pregnant. She dismissed me because even though she and her husband were trying, it hadn’t been very long. I was right, however, and I was right about the birth gender. Oh, that’s the other part. I can say the birth gender about the baby as well. I have been wrong once out of a dozen times. And in that case, that person is now questioning their gender.
I was also able to call certain sports moments, too. Like the 12th inning of the BoSox, er, Yankees I think post-season game. When Big Papi stepped up to the home plate, I suddenly knew he was going to hit a homerun. I said it out loud to my mother, and then he did it. I also knew he was going to win the next game, though not how. My mom has joked that I could make a killing if I bet on games, but it doesn’t work that way. It only happens in the moment. Like, we were at a local tennis match and I automatically said, “Double fault” as the person served. It was a double fault. My mother demanded I do it again, but it wasn’t a conscious thought on my part.
I called that my party trick because while it’s amusing, it has no practical usage. And, that’s not really reading people, well, the sports part isn’t. That’s predicting the future. The pregnant part, though, is reading the person without meaning to. I don’t intend to figure out if someone is pregnant or not–it just happens. When I worked at the county, there was a woman I worked with. I looked at her and knew she was pregnant with a boy. I did not tell her, of course, because that would be creepy and weird. I left that job because it was always temporary, but my mother worked there. Two or three months later, she told everyone at work that she was pregnant–with a boy. My mother told me, and I was glad to have my confirmation.
My brother is having the time of his life living his teenage years. He never got to really date around so he’s doing that now. He dropped by last night to talk about it. He called me his therapist. Funnily, it doesn’t bother me when he does it the way it does when my mother does. It’s because he’s done so much for me. I can never repay the lengths he went to when I was in the hospital. When I tried to thank him for it, he shrugged and said, “We’re family. It’s what we do.” Which, yes, it is. However, not everyone does it so well and with nary a complaint. So if he wants advice while he chews over his dating life, I’m here for him!
He wants me to meet the woman he’s seriously dating. He said that I should arrange to bump into them while they are on a date so I can tell him everything he needs to know about her. He is a wonderful guy, but his EQ is pretty low. He makes up for it in other ways by being conscious that he’s not good at it. He’s learned how to fake it to a certain extent, but he’s not able to read the finer points. He’ll tell me about their conversations and ask my opinion. More gratifyingly, he’ll bring it up again and tell me that I was right. I love being right!
I’ve hesitated on meeting her, though, for a few reasons. One, they’ve only been dating for not even two months. I told him if they’re still dating in a month or so, then maybe. Also, my immune system is shitty. No one is wearing a mask any longer. Yes, we can meet outside, but still. I’m not willing to risk it until it’s serious. Also, no one every listens to a loved one about the person they are dating. He’s in the NRE (New Relationship Energy), and any cautions I would have would fall on deaf ears. I’ve already been candid about my feelings, so I don’t really need to meet her yet.
In addition, I might be wrong. I have been wrong about people before. It’s very rare, but it has happened. And there are usually disastrous results when I’m wrong. There is one type of person I don’t get along with, either. The kind who has nothing to give to anyone. My bread-and-butter is asking questions to elicit the other person to talk at length. The worst thing for me, then, is the person who answers with one word and refuses to elaborate. I was at a party once and tried to such a person. I gave up after two minutes, murmured my excuses, and moved on.
It’s funny. Most of the Americans who post regularly on the RKG Discord are empaths. I don’t know why that’s the case, but it’s true. We commiserate over it during the wee hours of the night. It’s a relief to talk to other people about it because normally, I just keep it inside. We agree that it’s not a boon for the most part. It’s painful to know what other people are about, especially when they don’t realize it themselves. People do not want to be told about themselves, and some find it threatening. I mean, I get it. Defense mechanisms aren’t great if they don’t actually protect you. And it’s my belief that you should not take away someone’s defense mechanism if you don’t have something to replace it with. It’s there for a reason. But it can be frustrating.
For example, with my mother, it’s clear that her whole identity is centered around taking care of my father and being a martyr. She also needs to feel as if she’s not burdening me–which she is. Any time I point out that she is, indeed, dumping on me, she has a long list of excuses and deflections. Sometimes, she’ll try to turn it into my fault, which is infuriating.
There’s no reason to tell people about themselves if they don’t ask. They won’t hear it, and it’ll most likely make them angry. It’s a burden to carry and one I would cheerfully give up in a heartbeat. Since I can’t, I just deal with it by keeping it all on the inside. It’s the easiest way to deal with the situation, if not the most satisfying.