I Feel the Need, the Need to Please

You know how some people let everything roll off their back, never taking offense or worrying about what others think? Well, I'm at the other end of the spectrum—I take everything personally, at least as it relates to suggestions, recommendations or choices I make that affect others. This is especially evident when it comes to entertainment and leisure time options, which clearly makes this particular aspect of my neuroses of great importance (or at least of mild interest for a blog post). Some examples:

• I ask my husband or a friend to accompany me to a movie of my choosing. I then worry about whether they like it, thereby rendering myself unable to enjoy the film.
• I encourage a friend to read a book that I thought was terrific. They tell me later that they tried for months to get into it and finally gave up. I am now partner to the crime of spending too much time on a lousy read when there are gazillions of other books that that individual could have been spending time with.
• I laugh hysterically (a frequent occurrence) at the TV show I'm watching. I take occasional glances at Rob, seated on the couch next to me, to see whether he's even cracking a smile. I feel stupid if he's not equally amused. 
• I invite a friend to church (it could happen!) and the pastor's sermon is mediocre at best. I am annoyed with the pastor myself for choosing this particular Sunday to bring a guest, and decide I shall never again be party to Christian outreach or evangelism.
• I recommend a restaurant for dinner that I generally enjoy. The service is terrible and the food is mediocre at best. I'm embarrassed and feel badly and consider paying for my friend's meal (but then reject the idea because I'm cheap).

In one final, wacky example, I actually feel lousy if I introduce one friend to another friend and they don't exactly hit it off. Then I'm forced to decide which friend is most likely to blame and whether I need to dump the below average friend. Awkward.

The one thing these examples have in common is that the product or service (or person) being delivered has not been produced by me. I experience guilt and regret for recommendations that miss the mark, however, I am not actually responsible for the content. But when I am...

If I'm this loony about suggestions and recommendations, you can imagine my reaction when something I have personally created is not appreciated or enjoyed. Blog posts, for example. You know how it hurts my feelings when you don't "like" them. And do you have any idea how much a comment on the blog itself would mean to me? We've talked about this before. Let's go people. 

Technology has undoubtedly affected our sense of self. We determine our self worth by the number of likes, shares, favorites and comments we receive on any given day. Consider the selfies that teenage girls post on Instagram. Some experts see them as self-esteem boosters that help girls determine the identity they feel most comfortable with. It's all contingent, however, on the undeniable power of likes and retweets. An article in Time magazine reported:

"For a teenage girl, receiving likes on Instagram or Facebook can be seen as an endorsement that they are beautiful, from people who are within their social circle. Comments are there to compliment one’s appearance in a way that doesn't normally happen in a typical personal encounter."

Teen Vogue (of all places) notes that likes and comments that build self-esteem can crush it as well:

"After all, if two photos are posted—the first with nine likes and the second with two likes, some girls could perceive this as feeling less valued."  

But lest we get too serious, let's bring this back to me and my issues. Aside from my blog posts, I've become truly sensitive to the loss of "likes" and followers for the social media that I manage for my employer. The joy of adding 19 new fans can be completely overshadowed by losing one. My spirit is completely crushed when a reader opts out of receiving an e-newsletter that I produce. Every day is just another opportunity for virtual rejection.

What's rather interesting in this crazy self-absorbed analysis, is that, when it comes to me as a person, I'm increasingly less affected by others' opinions. With the exception of being perceived as unkind or just plain unlikable (you cut me deep, Shrek; you cut me very deep), I don't care so much what others think about me personally. As long as my Facebook likes don't dip below 500, I figure I'm okay. But seriously, if someone considers me outspoken (session members at church), obnoxious (other soccer moms), or a party pooper (anyone who's attended a party that I left early), I can shrug it off with a "who needs them anyway?" It just so happens that at this very moment, the issue of what others think is causing a disagreement between Rob and me. Since he loves when I bring him into my blog, allow me to explain:

Every October for the past several years, Rob and I have hosted a bonfire with friends. And since the beginning, invites to this shindig have included a "what to bring" list for guests. The deal has been that we provide the beer, chili, hot dogs and fire, and guests sign up to contribute food and drinks including soda, chips, soft pretzels, salads, finger food, desserts, water bottles, etc. This approach offers several benefits:

1. I don't need to cook. I don't like cooking and my cooking stinks, so everyone wins when I don't do it.
2. I don't have to spend hundreds of dollars on food and drink. Kegs are expensive enough.
3. I don't have to respond to dozens of "what should I bring" inquiries that leave me wondering what guests really will bring, thereby requiring me to cover all bases just to be safe.
4. No one feels guilty taking advantage of the generous donation of my yard debris to build an illegal fire.

The issue is that Rob, after having had this party for many years, now informs me that he thinks asking guests to bring something is tacky. And this/my tackiness is the reason why he always invites his coworkers personally rather than allowing me to include them on the Evite. I think Rob is a snob, as is any coworker or friend who is turned off by my request. Frankly, if that's your reaction, don't come. I can't imagine that any of my true friends, the people I most enjoy spending time with, think or feel that way.

I know my sister agrees with Rob. She would never have a party and ask people to bring something, but then my sister is a snob, too. What I want to know is how the rest of you feel. Do you think this is inappropriate, given the setting and casual nature of the event (we're not talking about a cocktail party, for which I would only request bottles of wine :-))? 

Since having learned how Rob feels about this, I am childishly refusing to have anything to do with the bonfire. If he thinks we shouldn't ask guests to chip in (literally!), then he can handle the whole megillah and I'll protest by going to the movies.  

I realize that it's ironic to ask who you think is right after trying to convince myself you that I don't care what others think of me personally. But alas, the future of this much-loved event rests on your response. No pressure.