I don’t like pretense and posturing when
I encounter them in others, and when I
sense a hint of either in myself, I reject it
quickly—swat it away like it’s a venomous
insect about to poison my system.
These two desperadoes seem diametrically
opposed to what we most naturally seek,
which I believe is an authentic, honest Self.
Still, I remember the awkward adolescent
days when pretense and posturing often
served as temporary pseudo-Selves handy
for trying on different personalities in the
sometimes very unsettling search for identity.
These interlopers were useful back then,
especially when ones’ Self felt like some kind
of elusive, wispy, character-playing, now-you-
see-me-now-you-don’t head games on a
hormone-rattled, stressed out teenager.
It was a relief when they were no longer welcome,
when I had finally defined and embraced what
I believe it means to be a man.