A few months before we got married, Sophia and I went to a dinner at at Chinese restaurant with a large group of people. As we left the restaurant, the two of us had an odd conversation about one of the guests who took the last shrimp from the large banquet serving plate.
Sophia: "If you wanted the last shrimp, why didn’t you take it?"
Me: "There are three types of people. Those who take the last shrimp on the plate, those who take the shrimp after asking, and those who never take it, even when offered."
Sophia: "And you’re the last one?"
Me: "Exactly."
Sophia: "If you wanted the shrimp, you should have just taken it."
Me: "I know it sounds stupid. I would feel too guilty. It would be like everyone is looking at me and thinking I’m selfish."
Sophia: "That’s ridiculous."
Me: "I know. I’m just like… my parents."
It’s something that always upset me about my parents, mostly because I’m the same way. Always eager to help out, but too wimpy to take the last shrimp.
I’ve grown a lot more assertive in the past few years, mostly because I’ve seen how Sophia goes after what she wants, and rather than people hating her, they actually respect her. Maybe that’s because she mostly uses her natural power to help others first.
Today, I still hesitate taking that last shrimp, but at least I might actually take it — once I ask everyone four or five times if they didn’t want it first.
Recently, I’ve been working on the Flash design and content of a online "Stress Management" course. (You can see a sample here, under ABOUT — but remember, I’m still working on it). One of the chapters is about "Assertiveness and Stress" and how a lack of assertiveness can add to a person’s anxiety. One of the most common problems with non-assertive people is their inability to say "No" to people.
For an interesting perspective on this, read Megan’s post about how she’s finally learning to say "No" to her co-workers’ constant asking for help.
I thought of the importance of assertiveness while watching the aftermath of the Katrina disaster. I asked myself, how would I act if I were there? Would I be heroic and help others? Would I take off on my own? Or would I go to the convention center and sit there for days, helplessly waiting for help to come? I think we all saw what being helpless gets you.
One of the hard lessons of life is that you can’t always wait for someone to help you. I know I’ve missed opportunities in my own life by assuming that things were going to come to me — like women and jobs. Sometimes I wonder how I even had enough nerve to propose to Sophia (unless I’m remembering it wrong, Sophia, and you proposed to me?)
Lizriz wrote a post complaining about the lack of "balls" in men today. They seem to have trouble asking women out and even paying for the bill on a date.
I’ve mentioned before that Sophia and I had some problems because our basic natures went against the traditional gender roles. She is the more assertive one, and vice versa. We loved each other because of this, but we also fought about it constantly. When it comes down to it, women still want a man who is "manly" and a man wants a woman who acts "womanly" — whatever that means.
Last week, Sophia and I went to an outdoor concert of Latin music. During intermission, we bought some coffee. There was a ledge along the wall where we put our styrofoam coffee cups down so we could add cream and sugar. At the same time, a young girl was walking along the ledge, coming towards us. Her mother, a well-dressed woman of about thirty-five, a Beverly Hills type, was holding her daughter’s hand, guiding her along.
Daughter: "Coming through! Coming through!"
I lifted up my cup so the girl could pass. Sophia was in the middle of pouring creamer into her cup.
Sophia: "One second."
Beverly Hills: "She needs to come through. There’s no stopping her."
Daughter: "Coming through! Coming through!"
Sophia: "You’ll need to wait a second, I’m almost done."
Beverly Hills: "You don’t have to be rude to my daughter."
Sophia: "I’m not being rude. You’re being rude. You can tell your daughter to wait a second."
Meanwhile, I was tensing up. I hate conflict. It’s the reason I don’t take that last shrimp. It’s the reason when Tatyana and ACG were arguing about looting in one of my posts earlier this week, I threw in a sex joke just to defuse it.
Beverly Hills: (to daughter) "Let’s go. "We don’t have to stay here and hear this."
They left.
Five minutes later, Sophia and I were at our seats, drinking the coffee and waiting for the show to begin. All of a sudden, I see the Beverly Hills Lady walking towards us. I can feel my blood pressure rising. I figured she was coming to say something to Sophia, but instead she stops in front of me.
Beverly Hills: "You know… you really can do A LOT better."
My body went into overdrive. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say. I came up with a lame joke, making believe I misunderstood her.
Me: "You mean these seats? I think they’re pretty good."
The woman took off. Sophia turned to me.
Sophia: "She just insulted me… in front of everyone. Why didn’t you say something?"
Me: "I did. I said, "You mean these seats?" I showed her how ridiculous she sounded."
Sophia: "No, you didn’t. You just wimped out."
Me: "She’s the one who looks like an asshole if she had to come here and say that."
Sophia: "She mocked me. Why don’t you say something to her?"
Me: "Like what?"
Sophia: "For one thing. You can say the same thing about how you feel about rude spoiled children that you did on your own blog."
Me: "Look, it’s too late. I don’t even know where she is anymore."
Sophia: "She’s over there. About ten rows up, in the center."
Me: "Aw, Sophia, it’s a big nothing. I’m not going to make a big scene. Forget it."
Sophia: "Wimp."
Me: "I’m a lover, not a fighter."
Sophia glared at me. If we were still together, it was a look that would mean there wouldn’t be ANY loving for this lover for a long time. Since we were already separated, it just meant that she wouldn’t speak to me for two days.
OK, bloggers, I’m ready for the attacks on my manhood, especially after I told you how Sophia always comes to my rescue. At least I now know what flowers to send all of you as apologies for you disappointment in me — from the information you gave me during the last post. I can buy all the flowers at the same place I did for Sophia.
I must admit that I agree with Bad Maria (a couple comments up). I do not have a problem with confrontation when it is warranted, but I think Sophia actually created tension and conflict unnecessarily in this particular situation.
I am also afraid of her, and am nervous to commit this criticism to comments. (laughs nervously)
Don’t worry, Ashbloem. Nothing makes Sophia happier than someone disagreeing with her and having a girl-to-girl wrestling match. In fact, I would actually pay to see that. Ashbloem, do you work out a lot? Just want to make sure it is a fair fight…
Dumped again. Story of my life.
P.S. – the war in Iraq had nothing to do with terrorism whatsoever. This may come as a shock to you, but Iraq did not instigate 9/11. I couldn’t leave here without adding that. I’m done now. Carry on.
I hate shrimp, so I’d be happy to let the last one sit there forever and rot on that plate. Does that count?
Thanks for the shout out Neil! I feel special.
The thing I love about the dynamic between you and Sophia is that your personalities mesh well together; you both bring out something in the other one that is not a natural trait.
I’m getting better at the assertive thing. Granted, I probably would have let the kid pass because it was a child, although if the mother was bitchy about me taking too long to move my coffee I would have then said something. I’m a pushover for kids, though if I ever have any I know I’ll be a hard ass.
Neil, you have a big heart. I can tell that by what you write. It emanated from every word typed out. That is very sexy in a man, at least to me. Sophia’s assertiveness is also very sexy, again, at least to me.
If I didn’t like Sophia so much, I’d volunteer to have a mud wrestling match with her, so long as you’d clean me off afterwards.
(I can’t believe I just wrote that. It’s so wrong!)
Hey Neil, I understand your Neville Chamberlain analogy but we’re not talking about giving up Czechoslovakia here…it was a moment on the ledge and for that matter, maybe the kid was up on that ledge heading right for you before you set the coffee cups down. So the game could have already been afoot as it were…
Anyway, I frankly don’t think you’re too much of a gentleman, if you were, you wouldn’t be inviting us to weigh in on the issue at all.
Sorry, if it had been me I would have made a joke about the “obstacle course” my coffee and cream presented, made a show out of the inconvenience of picking it up and the truth is the woman who was trying to distract the kid before the concert probably would have thanked me and apologized for my need to juggle and we all would have smiled at each other.
Now, the truth is, I have stood up for myself in similar situations (not exactly the same, more of who’s in line first things) and I figured out a way to do it that wasn’t dismissive and didn’t assume that the Beverly Hills clothes meant “bitch on wheels”.
I think it’s interesting that you felt you had to defend Sophia’s action to me. As far as her reaction, I was just asking questions, not meaning to attack…
And I still believe that given the utter smallness in the grand scheme of things of the moment, you responded appropriately. (And yes, kudos to you for being able to come up with a comeback to her subsequent rudeness…)
I really like your honesty in this point. I am very much like Sophia in that I am way more assertive than my husband is. Most of the time, I think it’s sweet how loving and docile he is, but there always a few times in our marriage when I wish he would step up and be more protective of me. You hit the nail on the head with this post – great job!!
Brooke — now that you’re fighting with me over Iraq, I have the hots for you again. You see that I’m always picking the women who are my opposite.
Megan — thanks for your comments, and your post. If I didn’t read about your struggle with becoming more assertive first, I wouldn’t had then guts to write this.
Bad Maria — I did defend Sophia, didn’t I?! I guess I’m learning after all. I think my manhood is growing larger by the moment. And I didn’t even have to buy any of those products I get spammed about in emails.
Kristine wrote that “the two of you are nuts” and “Your relationship BOGGLES THE MIND of this blogger.” Actually I never thought of Sophia and Neil’s relationship as nutty or boggling the mind. I would have to say that they always seem so reasonable and that they are very skilled at understanding each other. That’s why they can discuss anything very openly (even in a blog).
The rest of the Kramer family loves to discuss anything that’s global or political (Neil was Miltie one of the uncles discussing Stalin and Chamberlin and if so which did he pick?)but tend to shy away from personal topics. I think most of the Kramer men would have been great yeshiva bochers if the family had not left Russia. How do I know this? I lived with Neil’s Uncle Miltie for nearly 17 years. His nickname is Mad Milton, but he’d be in the lifeboat with Neil and never take the last shrimp. I’d be with Sophia and Anonymous City Girl probably. On second thought, Milton would want to be in the lifeboat with Sophia and Anonymous City Girl, and since I don’t want to listen to him complain, I’ll go with Neil.
Neil, when I read the blog about the shrimp to Miltie he said, “What, didn’t Neil get the shrimp that he wanted? I don’t understand, I don’t think we had shrimp with him? Did someone else take the last shrimp? Why don’t they just get another order so there’s more shrimp for everyone? What Chinese restaurant did they go to? Ask Neil so we can go there when we go to LA. Was it Genghis Cohen on Fairfax Blvd? I have to speak to my brother about this.”
The problem with Neil and Sophia’s relationship is not that one didn’t move the coffee out of the brat’s way or that Neil didn’t say anything to the bimbo Bev Hills mom, it’s that they really always tried so hard to understand each other’s feelings in great detail and be supportive. They didn’t just come home, not talk, watch TV, go to bed, go to work, etc. If they’d done that like a normal married couple,and not tried to understand each other, they’d never have separated.
Actually Miltie looked at the blog and he wants to be in the lifeboat with the Dahm triplets.
Uh-oh, I’ve been outed by the extended family. This is way more dangerous than my mother reading the blog. How am I going to make fun of the next bar mitzvah I have to go to?
Welcome Carolyn and Uncle Milton.
Ooh, I can see I’m going to like Carolyn… and look forward to more revealing comments!
Yea! Uncle Milton can be in my life boat.
I can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like having my extended family on my blog weighing in with the world on my relationships and life. How much do you spend a week on therapy? I think it may be about to go up.
Anyway … thanks for the reference to The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp – great movie. With a young and fetching Deborah Kerr playing not one but three roles! My mother always loved Deborah Kerr, as did I. Though we liked her for different reasons. At least, I think they were different. On the other hand, it would explain a good deal about my parent’s relationship. (Maybe I’m the one who needs to spend more on therapy.)
Lizriz … yes, LOL. Maybe you guys should start a club?
As for the the question of how to respond to these situations … it’s hard to be someone other than who you are. Me, I’m more passive than assertive and for good or ill, I’m quite happy that way. I don’t think the coffee incident is extreme enough to say one response is more appropriate than the other. I sometimes wish I was more like a Sophia but I kinda like myself being more like a Neil. (Does this make me wishy-washy? I suppose so. “Sue me, sue me, what can you do me?”)
First off, “Coming through” is not the appropriate phrase for this particular situation. “Excuse me”, alternating with “excuse me, please” would have been the thing to say. “Coming through” has an aura of command to it, I think, and if I dont acknowledge your right to command then we get this sort of situation. That being said, I would have done the same thing you did, Neil; I would have told a joke instead of cutting this dolt the new bunghole she so obviously needs because her head is stuck way up the one she was born with. Next time something like this happens give Sophia something sharp and tell her to have at the rude cow.
I think we can leave ‘sex roles’ out of this one.
I am a woman who hates confrontation. Even more embarrasing is the fact that I often can’t help the tears when I confront. This complicates things by making me angry at myself. It might even look like I’m vulnerable when you don’t want to cross me.
While I hate “unnecessary” confrontation, for that reason, I do like a challenge. I wish I was a quicker thinker who could come up with comic responses on the spot. My burbling lack of wit when insulted has nothing to do with being a wuss. It also has nothing to do with ‘backing down’.
So, I can empathize with men who don’t like confrontation. I avoid it too.
Sex roles aside, it is possible that Sophie felt that your avoidance of the situation would have been different if you had been the one under attack? Your response could imply, “See what I put up with? …and I’m such a nice guy!”
It could be that Sophie likes butting heads and you don’t. It could also be that on some level she saw you as being seduced by an opportunity to raise your profile by putting her down.
Some of the strongest and most manly men I know are not into confrontation but they would follow up. You wouldn’t have had to strut over like John Wayne, but a show of solidarity was in order. Having botched the first part, how about walking over to Beverly Hills with Sophie and, with ‘presence’, calmly stating that you just want to clear something up. The exchanges that passed between you were inappropriate and you did not like the way that she (Beverly Hills) put Sophie down, that Sophie had a right to finish pouring her cream and that if Beverly Hills had time to come back and insult Sophie, she must also have had time to wait for cream to be poured before taking her seat.
You shoulda punched that lady’s daughter in the nose.
you know, i always thought that the person who was insulted should defend themselves. but then, i’m one of those manly women, so what do i know?