Me and Doors

Those patent leather shoes I got—see the previous post—came from a really smart store on West Broadway. It belongs to an Italian man and everything in the store comes from Italy; the store carries both men’s and women’s fashions and accessories but it is very small. I have walked by several times but no one is even inside so I have been too intimidated to go in.

But just as with Boboli, which also intimidated me, an open door and a sale advertised on the windows gave me the courage to go in. I also got some fabulous pants and a pair of shorts and thoroughly enjoyed myself. It’s the open door that is so welcoming.

Many years ago someone I was dying to know suddenly, out of the blue, invited me to her party. I tried three times to go, but I was just too shy to knock on her door. It was a problem I had had before, but it never bothered me so much as that time because my silly fears were keeping me from meeting a woman I admired greatly and desperately wanted to know.

There have been times, when acquaintances or colleagues have invited me to their parties where there will be a lot of people I don’t know, I have had to decline because I know I will not be able to knock on their doors. I always thought it was because I was just too shy. With friends whom I know better, I have sometimes asked them to leave their doors just a tad open because if they do that, I can go in. But if the door is not open, I can’t knock. Weird eh?

It’s the same with stores and restaurants when I travel. Sometimes I don’t eat, sometimes I eat street food instead of sitting in a restaurant (which is what I would rather do) and sometimes I persevere. But it can take me an hour or two to get the courage to go into a place.

All this silliness is only when I am alone. Does it bother me? Of course it does, but I am also happy to have this problem because it gives me a way to understand the irrational issues of other people and for that capacity to empathize with the burdened, I am very grateful.