In a previous life, the life where I was always smartly dressed, wore full make up and high heels and never looked like a bag lady, I did a lot of work with people and personalities.
Broadly speaking we used to split people into six main character groups which were; dramatics, classics, naturals, gamines, ingenues and romantics. It makes it so much easier to understand people when you know roughly where they’re coming from. In it’s simplest terms it’s a way of describing personality traits.
At the dramatic, or yang, end of the scale you have the straight talkers. Cross one of these and you’ll get both barrels. Boom! You’ll wonder what the hell hit you but at the end of it they’ll carry on as if nothing had ever happened, once they’ve said their piece it’s over and forgotten about.
At the other end of the scale are the more yin characters. They’ll fester, brew and sulk until they’ve managed to sort it all out in their head and their heart. Cross one of these and you’ll know about it for the rest of your life. They might forgive but boy, will they remember.
Most of us have elements of both.
My Boofuls is a full on dramatic. He inadvertently scares some (actually, quite a few) people with his brooding looks and forthright manner. Me, I know what he’s like under the surface and it makes me laugh when people say they feel intimidated by him. He’s a pussycat really.
Me, I’m a bizarre mixture that had a whole team of image consultants flummoxed with my curvy figure, childish humour and impetuous adventurous streak. In the end we settled in a mix of natural and gamine i.e. boyish ( but with huge knockers ). What I have got though is a yin streak a mile wide that causes me to stew on events that I should really just put behind me.
Like what I can hear you asking.
Well, I’ll tell you.
Like at the dog club the other week when they royally pissed me off. I’m trying really hard not to rant about it and bore you with the whole story.
So, because they’ve royally pissed me off I’ve decided that I’m not going back to that particular dog club – even if that means missing out on the demonstration in a couple of weeks that I really want to take part in and Douggie the Doggie not gaining his gold medal award for obedience.
Talk about cutting off my nose to spite my face. It’s ridiculous but I just can’t bring myself to go back because I’m still so angry.
My grown up head knows that I’d be far better telling them in no uncertain terms that I think they’re a bunch of idiots who couldn’t run a piss up in a brewery. Ok, I probably shouldn’t word it quite like that but you get my point. As it is, I mildly registered my discontent and slunk out never to return.
If this was anyone else I’d be telling them not to be silly and have a word with the club but oh no, this is me, let’s get the sodding carving knife out and lop my nose off instead, that’s a far better idea.
There are times I really wish I was more yang.