\u201cYou\u2019re sweet\u201d, my father-in-law told me. Immediately, my inner being huffed and puffed indignantly. Sweet? Me? Never! The occasion was anything but sweet as well. I had burst into tears after not being able to properly explain myself with words. When my husband started to explain to me why that was, I only grew more irate. So, sweet how? I don\u2019t want to be sweet.<\/p>\n
Later I wondered exactly what is so awful about being called sweet. I address my own letters with \u201cLove, Jeanet\u201d after all. Am I not being honest when I do that and is it purely part of etiquette? Does receiving a letter signed with \u201cLove, \u2026\u201d mean something totally different than being called sweet? I think it does. The word love means to me: \u201cI am your devoted friend\u201d, or \u201cyou are very dear to me.\u201d In other words, it says something about my relationship with the recipient. The words \u201cyou\u2019re sweet\u201d moreso attribute the recipient with the character trait of sweetness, as if it\u2019s some sort of compliment. It isn\u2019t to me.<\/p>\n
Being \u201csweet\u201d sounds so vacuous, so utterly self deprecating, so unassertive. What is \u201cbeing sweet\u201d, anyways? A child who\u2019s always quiet, playing nice, not making any trouble. A subservient woman who never complains. A man who\u2019s\u2026 No, men aren\u2019t supposed to be sweet. That would make them soft. Sweet always refers to someone who doesn\u2019t bother you at all while helping you with whatever you need, without complaint. This may all sound very noble, but I\u2019ve always been averse to it. <\/p>\n
Never, in my whole life, have I wanted to be sweet. Call me pithy, catty, critical, chaotic, creative, bold. While some of these attributes are less than positive, I feel more at ease being called them. They mean something. They shape me. They keep me in motion. In fact, they bring life to the things I\u2019ve pursued my whole life: acting, doing, changing. Maybe they simply tell the outside world \u201cThis is me, and I am here!\u201d To me, this is incompatible with being \u201csweet\u201d. <\/p>\n
After I die, never say \u201cshe was sweet\u201d. I would be spinning in my grave. Anything is better than being called \u201csweet\u201d.<\/p>\n
P.S. Huge confusion after I read the book Conversations With God, which states that we are all lovely and sweet, even having been put on earth to remind us of this. And yet, I still don\u2019t want to be sweet. I may have to consider changing my attitude. Lastly, I don\u2019t mind being called \u201cloving\u201d, even if I may not necessarily agree with it. <\/p>\n
February 1999
\nJeanet van der Vlist, Leiden<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u201cYou\u2019re sweet\u201d, my father-in-law told me. Immediately, my inner being huffed and puffed indignantly. Sweet? Me? Never! The occasion was anything but sweet as well. I had burst into tears after not being able to properly explain myself with words. When my husband started to explain to me why that was, I only grew more … <\/p>\n