Sharing Your Authentic Self With Another

It’s effing terrifying

Only twice in my life have I allowed guys to see all of me. Not naked; half the internet has seen that. I mean the depths that I keep buried down. It’s not even difficult to keep them stuffed that far, it’s been a habit my whole life.

This isn’t a sob story post. It’s simply a matter of fact: parts of my identity stays under wraps as a defense mechanism from childhood. In a deeply religious Muslim household, I pretended to be one person. Outside my house, I was another to blend in as much as I could. I locked that vault shut when a boy I was sleeping with in high school (whom I adored) told me I couldn’t ever be his girlfriend because his family wouldn’t accept me since I wasn’t Catholic. Or Christian. Or Lutheran. I don’t remember, insert “white person religion” and you get the drift.

When I met men, I honed in on how to be the perfect date. You guys, I make a fucking fantastic impression in the first few months of dating. I force myself to be interested in their painfully boring tales from work. I flatter them through teasing, hitting them on the arm saying things like, “ohhh you can get away with that because you’re the powerful guy at work everyone loves!”

I’m the right amount of slutty to keep them excited but not so much they think I’m fucking the whole town. Only once have I never gotten a second date; ironically, the guy was Muslim and it was a set up for our marriage.

I can do all that because I know how to show snippets of my personality instead of dumping it all out. Pretty sure I shouldn’t come clean and say, “listen bro…I’m kind of an asshole. I’ll laugh at inappropriate humor and I incessantly play devil’s advocate for any opinion. I’m blunt, often to the point of impatience. Deep down, I’ve got leftover brainwashing from my religious upbringing that still impacts me; I won’t kiss you after you eat bacon. If you raise your arm to grab something off a shelf, I might duck and cover my head. I posed naked on the internet for years to get validation from guys that I was still fuckable. There is no stray cat that passes me without getting pet, even if I’m running late for my own funeral.”

Yeah. I’m a real gem.

When I meet men, I can only show bits and pieces of those darker parts. When enough time has passed, it never seems right to start showing those facets. You can’t just yell on Month 3 of dating, “Surprise! I was crazy town all along!” My husband hasn’t even seen it all. The times I exposed him to those facets of me yielded negative consequences. Instead, I tiptoed and tried to become someone else in this marriage while occasionally slipping up. Each time, I stuffed it back down again. Sharing my authentic self ruffles feathers and seems quite unlikable.

Yet, I’ve allowed it twice.

The first time was when I separated from my husband over a decade ago. Mark turned out to be a drug-addicted psychopath who stalked and tormented me. The ensuing drama aside, in the beginning, it was so easy to reveal my real self. He was eager to learn more and since I didn’t expect anything long-term, I laid it all out there. Mark loved me anyway. Unfortunately, when it all went south he manipulated me with that knowledge to get money, love, and sex out of me.

It wasn’t until last year that I inadvertently showed my true self to someone else.

I met Jon online from a site where I had every intention of never meeting someone. Through some voodoo magic, I agreed to meet for some hotel fun. From our first correspondences to the sex, to conversations after, I never gave it much thought to limit my authenticity. Our marriages were reaching an end; we happened to meet at the right time (or wrong time, depending on how you view it) to have our emotional and physical needs satisfied.

It was almost too easy to share with him. Perhaps it was because he grew up Mormon in Utah, which rivals any of the Muslim community I had in my hometown. Looking back, that mattered because he understood what it’s like to plaster a smile and shut emotions off like a light switch. I realized he wouldn’t judge me for it.

In fact, he didn’t judge me about anything. Not the fetish website. Not the previous affairs. Upon leaving our hotel room and walking down the hall, he once asked “where’s the elevator?” to which I sarcastically replied, “uh, probably where those people with the suitcases just came from.” I immediately apologized and told him that was a dick thing to say. He laughed it off and said he knows I’m sarcastic, it was another thing he loved about me.

I had laid it all out there from the beginning. Unlike other relationships, I didn’t have more of me to slowly show with trepidation and immediately push back down if things didn’t go well. Like the relationship with Mark ten years earlier, Jon accepted it…flaws and all.

It was liberating.

Until it ended.

We broke things off on good terms. Unfortunately, it feels like he took that feeling of liberation and security with him. I’m grateful for Jon and the time we shared because, without him, I only would have the traumatic memories of sharing my true self with Mark.

Truthfully, I don’t think my self-esteem and perceived self-worth would be as high now if it wasn’t for Jon showing me what love feels like when I allow myself to be really seen. Now if only I could get over the constant hope that each time my phone buzzes, it’s a message from him. My regret for the path we chose to end things is a tale for another time.

Both times I showed men my true self, it ended in some form of heartbreak.

The first time was negative, with a stalker harassing me and terrorizing me. Not a highlight of my life, but somewhere in there I’ll find a life lesson other than, “don’t trust someone one month fresh out of rehab.”

The second time was so wonderful, I’ll always wish we had taken the leap of faith to turn dreams of “maybe someday” into “now”. It completely changed a lifetime of self-loathing over the parts of me I never showed (cue some Disney music).

As my marriage with my husband is ending at the speed of a snail, I’m dipping my toes into the dating pool. Pending separation has unintentionally caused me to have increased self-confidence with men, so I’m pushing myself out of my comfort zone to reveal more of who I am at the beginning instead of feeling intimidating to show them later.

This time, I’m not scared to be my authentic self.