Wheaton’s Way: What do you mean to say?

I attended the Fiesta de Agave at Beach Deck a couple of weeks ago, and just like at any of these great social events, I bumped into a lot of people I hadn’t seen in ages.

In between the tequila and tacos, I caught up with old friends – they were entertaining, fun conversations … and so I made that suggestion I always mean at the time, and yet rarely follow through: “We should get together some time!”

Don’t we all do it? In that moment, we think it’s a great idea, and have every intention of making plans, but then life gets in the way. If I had a dime for every time I’ve actually subsequently met up with her or him, I wouldn’t be able to buy them a free glass of water.

I thought about that saying: “Say what you mean and mean what you say.” According to one of the myriad explanations to be found on the ‘net, “Say what you mean” means: Express your thoughts, needs and feelings directly and honestly rather than using vague language or hints. It requires being thoughtful and mindful about your words.

“Mean what you say” means: Ensure your words represent your true intentions, and stand by your statements. It involves following through on promises and not saying things just to please others or avoid conflict.

I think I’m more guilty of committing the latter. (See: “We should get together some time!”) But there must be a difference between deliberately not following through, and intending to, but being sidelined by other distractions – right? Bueller? Bueller?

Isn’t this a fun column? Everybody get out your workbooks, ‘cos there’s going to be an assignment on this at the end.

Oftentimes, kids can actually be a great example of how we should behave as adults – or at least they could teach us a thing or two about being straight with each other.

When I was much younger, a friend and I went to a restaurant that one of their relatives owned. We had a fabulous meal, followed by a dessert that I really liked. I’d finished everything off when the owner came over to check on us. They saw I’d licked the plate clean and asked if we wanted anything else (I should note they were covering the bill). I was definitely up for another dessert (that’s how the modelling career officially began), so I enthusiastically replied in the affirmative. They actually looked a little taken aback – and confused – but they went off and brought me back my second helping.

Lemme tell ya, I never heard the end of it from my friend, the friends she told, her family members … “Wow! How could you ask for a extra dessert??”

“But, they asked if we wanted anything else, and I did, so …”

“They were just being polite. I never imagined you’d actually ask for anything …”

You get the picture.

They made me feel bad, like I had been rude, but what the heck does “do you want anything else?” mean, then? They may have seen it as a throwaway comment, but I pounced on it like Rose getting up on that floating door in ‘Titanic’.

They asked. I took them at their word. Gimme my second dessert.

A child wouldn’t have hesitated – they aren’t as bound by social conventions as we grown-ups. The freedom must be marvellous.

Whether we are the ones asking the question or answering, this happens more in our lives than we probably realise. How many times do we ask something, with a preconceived notion of what the person’s answer should be, and then they go and mess it all up by responding with what we didn’t want to hear? Or we get asked something, and decide to respond with what we mean, rather than what they were hoping for?

For many years, when I had little spare money, I dreaded the group dinner. You know what I’m talking about – when you eat soup and salad, accompanied by fountain soda, and everyone else eats and drinks hearty. The bill comes. “Shall we just split it 10 ways?” says the person with bits of filet mignon covered in a thin film of Champagne still stuck in their teeth.

*&^%$#@!!!

It took a while, but finally I was either up front before I accepted the invitation, or when the “split?” offer came down the pike, I’d happily speak up and say, “No, I’d rather just pay for mine, thanks.”

You’d think people would understand, but there would be a palpable intake of breath at the very idea that I would go rogue. I said what I meant.

Another prime breeding ground for not saying what you mean is in relationships. “Sure; fine” is a great example.

“Honey, I want to go to the game with the guys on your birthday, is that okay?”

“Sure; fine.”

“Sweetheart, my mother is coming around tonight, so can you please miss happy hour?”

“Sure; fine.”

“You know I think Valentine’s Day is a made-up holiday for commercial enterprises, so I didn’t get you anything.”

“Sure; fine.”

Hoo, boy.

It seems no matter what age we are, some of us can’t be upfront about what we really want. So, we’re vague, and we skirt around it, and we say stuff that does not match our facial expressions, nor convey what we feel. We hope that the other person will pick up on the mixed signals and realise that something’s hinky here. The games people play.

Coming back around to meaning what we say, I really am a terrible person for saying things that will put off a task I don’t want to tackle at that moment – promising to deal with it later. That promise carries less weight than the air into which it is uttered. My bestie/housemate Lynne no doubt has conversations well-documented in her Dewey Decimal brain library of when she’s asked me to get rid of clutter, I’ve promised to do it that weekend, and I’ve subsequently done nothing. Basically, I just hope she’ll get distracted by something else and move on.

That actually frequently happens – she’ll find a recipe that looks amazing and then spend three weeks trying to perfect it. Don’t get me started on the mushroom bacon obsession. There was so much liquid smoke in the house, it smelled like we were running a Texas BBQ out of the kitchen.

See? Lynne means what she says. “I shall attempt to cook palatable mushroom bacon” – and she does … attempt. She follows through.

However, when she finally gave up on us opening our first ‘Smoky Shrooms’ location, featuring nothing but varieties of fakin’ bacon (Shiitake Rashers, Portobello Pancetta, Button Bitz “Yer Caesar Salad never had it so good!”), she turned back to me.

[Sounds of Lynne’s noggin’ sifting through invisible index cards]

“Didn’t you promise about three weeks ago that you would get rid of that clutter in the living room?”

Ugh. Divert! Divert!

“Hey, did you see that amazing turnip steak they cooked on CBC last night? Might be a winner!”

The merry dance continues.

Yes, wouldn’t it be wonderful if we all said what we meant and meant what we said? Wouldn’t it be a much simpler and easier world?

Okay; perhaps with a few exceptions.

“Hey, you can be honest with me. Do I look fat in this?”