What, me? Showing off?
We're at the Wilson's annual party, and over at the far end of the living room an inten young woman with blazing eyes and a throbbing voice are criticizing poverty, war, injustice and human suffering. Indeed, she express such anguish at the anguish of mankind that attention quickly shifts from the moral issues she is expounding to how very, very，very deeply she cares about them.
She's showing off.
Down at the other end of the room a scholarly fellow has just ud "angst", "Kierkegaard" and "epistemology" in the same ntence. Meanwhile our resident expert in wine meditatively sips, and then pushes away, a glass of perfectly good French wine. They're showing off.
And then there's us, complaining about how tired we are today becau we went to work, rushed back to e our son's school play, shopped at the market and hurried home in order to cook gourmet food, and then repaired another dining room chair.
And what we also are doing is showing off.
Indeed everyone, I would like to propo, has some sort of need to show off. No one's completely imm
une. Not you. And not I. And although we've been taught that it's bad to boast, that it's trashy to toot our own horn that nice people don't strut their stuff, ek attention or name-drop, there are times when showing off may be forgivable and maybe even acceptable.
But first let's take a look at showing off that is offensive that is not acceptable, that's never nice. Like showoffs motivated by a fierce competitiveness. And like narcissistic showoffs who are willing to be and to stay the center of attention.
Competitive showoffs want to be the best of every bunch. Competitive showoffs must outshine all others. Whatever is being discusd, they have more---experti or money
or even aggravation---and better---dentists or children or marriages or re cines---and deeper---love of animals or concern for human suffering. Competitive showoffs are people who reside in a permanent state of rivalry. For example, you’re finishing a story about the sweet little card that five-year-old recently made for your birthday when the competitive showoff interrupts to relate how her daughter not only made her a sweet little card, but also brought her breakfast in bed and saved her allowance for months and months in order to buy her----obviously much more beloved---mother a beautiful scarf for her birthday.
Narcissistic showoffs, however, don't bother to compete becau they don't even notice there's anyone there to compete with. They talk nonstop, they brag, they dance, they sometimes quote Homer in Greek, and they'll even go stand on their head if attention should flag. Narcissistic showoffs want to be the star while everyone el is the audience. And yes, they are often adorable and charming and amusing---but only until around age of six.
I've actually en a narcissistic showoff get up and leave the room when the conversation shifted from his accomplishments. "What's the matter?" I asked when I found him standing on the terrace, brooding darkly. "Oh, I don't Know," he replied, "but
all of a sudden the talk started getting so superficial."
Another group of showoffs ---much more sympathetic types-- are showoffs who are basically incure. Incure showoffs show off becau, as one clo friend explained, "How will they know that I'm good unless I tell them about it?" And whatever the message--I'm smart, I'm a fine human being--showoffs have many different techniques for talking about it.
Sometimes showoffs ask for cheers to which they're not entitled. Sometimes showoffs earn the prai they ek. And sometimes folks achieve great things and nonetheless do not show off about it.
Now that's impressive.
Indeed, when we discover that the quiet mother of four with whom we've been talking
intimately all evening has recently been elected to the state -- and she never even mention it!---we are filled with admiration, with astonishment, with awe.
What lf-restraint!
For we know very well---I certainly know---that if we'd been that lucky lady, we'd have worked our triumph into the conversation. As a matter of fact, I'll lay my cards right on
the table and confess that the first time some poems of mine were published, I not only worked my triumph into every conversation for months and months, but I also called almost every human being I'd ever known to proclaim the glad tidings both local and long distance. Furthermore---let me really confess--if a stranger happened to stop me on the street and all he wanted to know was the time or directions, I tried to detain him long
e3nough to enlighten him with the news that the person to whom he was speaking was a Real Live Published Poet.
Fortunately for everyone, I eventually--- it took me a while---calmed down.
Now, I don't intend to defend mylf ---I was showing off, I was bragging and I wasn't the slightest bit shy or lf-restrained, but a golden, glowing, glorious thing had happened in my life and I had an overwhelming need to exult. Exulting, however, may be a permissible form of showing off.
Exulting is what my husband does when he fries me an egg and practically does a tap dance as he carries it from the kitchen stove to the table, tting it before me with the purely objective asssment that this may be the greatest fried egg ever made.
Exulting is what my mother my mother did when she took her first grandson to visit all her friends, and announced as she walked into the room, "Is he gorgeous? Is that a gorgeous baby? Is that the most gorgeous baby you ever saw?"
And exulting is what is what that mother of four would have done if she'd smiled and said, "Don't call me 'Marge' any more. Call me 'Senator'".
Exulting is shamelessly shouting our talents or triumphs to the world. It’s saying: I'm taking a bow and I'd like to hear clapping. And I think if we don't overdo it (stopping strangers to say you’ve been p
ublished is overdoing it), and I think if we know when to quit ("Enough about me. Let's talk about you. So what do you think about me?" does not count as quitting), and I think if we don't get addicted (i.e., crave prai for every poem or fried egg), and I think if we're able to walk off the stage (and clap and cheer while others take their bows), then I think we're allowed, from time to time, to exult.
Though showing off can range from very gross to very subtle, and though the point of showing off is sometimes nasty, sometimes needy, sometimes nice, showoffs always run the risk of being thought immodest, of being harshly showoffs. And perhaps we ought to consider the words Lord Chesterfield wrote to his sons: “Modesty is the only sure bait when you angle for prai."
And yes, of cour he's right; we know he's right, he must be right. But sometimes it's so hard to be restrained. For no matter what we do, we always have a lap or two. So let's try to forgive each other for showing off.
