There is this painting for sale in this centre street shop near my bus stop that is on sale for a bargain price. $150 for a painting in a gorgeous frame—the parts are worth what he's selling it for! I know Kim likes the painting too; and that's the kicker. It is nice, but it is not artistic. I know people will come into our home and admire it. Kim will be proud of it; they might even talk a bit about how nice it is and how thoughtful it was of me to get her that. And it will make me die a little inside every time they do.
Whilst they are viewing I will think it that a van Gogh or Rembrandt printed on newsprint and held on the wall with thumb tacks would be a million times more honest and that even though people will not admire it, I will be easier in my heart.
Sometimes I think Kim wishes I was like those people who praise vacantly. Like, "Wow you look so nice! Where did you get that?" They mean as much in so many words as much I mean by, "It looks all right." When I praise something, I would be lying if I said I was indifferent to it instead. At that moment it is the centre of my attention and worth all my attention as well.
Sometimes I say she is beautiful when I feel indifferent. It is my compromise: it doesn't sit well with me; I do her a disservice: she cannot trust my judgments. When I do praise her beauty honestly (which I do frequently enough and most times I tell her she's beautiful I truly and deeply mean it) I feel like it is worth so much more and to say it at times when she is wearing make-up or clothing items that either clash among themselves or cover her beauty would be to cheapen it when I say it at other times. Can't she understand why integrity is for her benefit here?!
I love her. I understand that she has insecurities (like everyone in existence) and that telling her she's beautiful will make her feel beautiful and that in turn will make her more beautiful, but it feels dishonest and that's my beef.
- Will Out
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