Dear Clare,

Angry Alex

Dear Alex,

How funny you are! And how angry! Though you may sound horribly superficial and shallow, I commend you for your ability to recognize that you are acting "really fake." I believe that most people act fake in some situations, but would never actually admit it. I am a pretty blunt person, and in high school, which is basically Fake People World, I would often get angry with my chums who were friendly to people I thought were cruel. Actually, I was much more irrational and would get mad at them for being nice to people I simply didn't really like. It took me a while to realize, however, that there was a difference between being fake and being nice. I may have some dissenters who don't agree with me, but I think I'm right. Obviously.

This fake/nice distinction is an important one for you to recognize, Alex. You only presented two behavioral options in your letter, and they are both too extreme for you to employ. Fakeness is irritating and usually very easy to spot, which I don't think many fake people know. If you are fake, you aren't fooling anyone — which makes it completely pointless behavior!

I am able to make this strong statement because I don't think that being fake is suppressing your "hate filled inner monologue." Just because you aren't unleashing your contempt for an enemy doesn't mean you are being artificial, it just means you are complying with society's standard for acceptable behavior. Most likely, your parents taught you that it is not ok to hurt people's feelings. This is probably a good lesson. I stray from giving full affirmation to such teaching because I grew up in Minnesota nice-land and have met many people who worry too much about appeasing others and not about paying attention to their own feelings. As my mother puts it, "they wouldn't say sh*t if they had a mouth full of it." On the flip side, if we went around saying what we thought all the time, anarchy would result. Perhaps in a world where inner monologues never existed and our harshly crude thoughts had always been verbalized, people would have grown used to the constant chatter and learned to live in harmony. Because that isn't the case, we are stuck with walking a thin line between honesty and rudeness.

I hate thinking about all the inner-thoughts going on in someone's head when I am speaking with them: "Does Clare ever stop talking? Did she get ready in the dark again? Can George stay mad at Grey forever? I'm hungry." Perhaps I am overly paranoid and my dear readers don't understand why I would be creeped out by such things. Let me try to help you understand with a little story: right now a gentleman I don't know is sitting across from me in a coffee shop. He has his headphones on, but his music is actually coming out of his computer speakers for the whole place to hear. Little does he know that his headphones are not plugged into his computer or that the girl with the big hair who has been typing away for the past hour is actually typing about him! Would this freak him out to know that he is the central character in her present paragraph? Absolutely! What is more unsettling is the fact that if I ever see him around campus, I will think of him as "Clueless Headphones Guy." He will have no idea who I am, but I will actually have a name for him.

I give you that example to demonstrate how pointless it would be for that type of information to be verbalized so that our dear Angry Alex does not have qualms about suppressing some of his thoughts. I don't want, nor do I need, to know how someone may evaluate my outfit. Clueless Headphones Guy doesn't need to know that some chick has a stupid nickname for him. These thoughts are therefore appropriate to keep to oneself. If I were to ask someone what he or she thought of an outfit, I would expect a respectful amount of honesty. If Clueless Headphones Guy asked me what I would call him (which would be an awkward and random question) I would respond with a respectful amount of honesty. I would then laugh hysterically.

So to give you some guidelines, Alex, think of it this way: if you run up to a person whose face adorns your dartboard and recite odes of love and praise, you are being a phony when you need not be. It is morally acceptable, however, to politely acknowledge the existence of someone you abhor with a head nod or faint smile. Though you may not enjoy anything about that scum of the earth, acknowledging that you notice he or she is alive and that you know the detestable twit is the polite thing to do. This way you also avoid the awkwardness that will inevitably result as both of you try not to make eye contact but doing so anyway because you were both looking to see when the other wasn't looking. More importantly, however, being polite eradicates the difficulty in deciding whether to be rude but honest or nice but fake. You are simply avoiding useless conflict and being a civil human being.

Good luck, Angry Alex. I sure hope you weren't that guy in the coffee shop because then I would feel bad.

Clare

Dear Clare,

Basket Case Boyfriend

Dear Basket Case,

How difficult the culturally created and promoted role of the brawny insensitive man is to fulfill! Do not fear your sensitivity, Basket Case. Embrace it! If you don't think you can hold it together for a whole movie, tell your girlfriend that scary flicks aren't your favorite and give her prior warning that you will be a mess. She will probably find this hilarious and will then drag you to the scariest movie she can find, but this will make the movie even more enjoyable for her. Though her additional entertainment will be at your expense, I am guessing she will find your little insecurity endearing. If she is turned off by it, dump her and date me because I can commiserate and wouldn't subject you, or me, to anything frightening. We could live in bliss together and watch "Love Actually" all day, every day. How wonderful does that sound?

Good luck, and whatever you do, don't watch "What Lies Beneath." That is seriously the most terrifying thing I've ever seen. For all you brave people out there, I'm sure you're better than me and can think of more frightening films, but that's as scary as it gets with me.

Clare