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!