The book I am reading right now is written from inside of its female protagonist's head. Not in a floody stream-of-consciousness sort of way and not in a first-person POV either, but rather something in the middle – a third-person narrative that's interested only in what this woman sees and how exactly she feels about it. Everything and everybody else is sketchy. She is an interesting woman, though – an ad exec with a disturbing past and an uncertain future, severely unhappy and alone, and I am fascinated by the nuanced way the book's author (a man) depicts her impulses, reactions, and emotions. Her feelings, if not her character, are quite relatable.
About one-third into the book, there is this scene: The protagonist just spent several hours on a sailboat with a man she met only a few weeks ago. This outing was their first date and it went quite well in all expected and unexpected ways. She is sure that the wonderful day will smoothly roll into a fantastic evening. (We are in her head, remember? So, we are following various promising scenarios she envisions.) They are walking along the dock towards her car and she feels incredibly elated.
Now, without changing his stride and still holding her hand, the guy tells her that cleaning the boat after the trip is a big job and he'd better get on it right away. Basically, he is dismissing her and, as far as she is concerned, for no good reason. Internally she is dismayed, but she keeps her cool – still holds his hand and says calmly, "I understand perfectly. I've work to do myself."
As I said, I am sympathetic to this character. Plus, situations like that, when reality totally clashes with your expectations and you have to find the best way out in a matter of seconds – they are not specific to intimate relationships; they are universal and I encounter them practically daily. So, my ears got pricked up by the behavioral subtlety of the moment and I mentally congratulated the heroine on not falling into a socially awkward disaster and handling it well, without showing her actual emotions. I'm hoping here that she gets into her car, smiles goodbye, doesn't say a word, and drives off.
Bzzzzzzzzz! My compliments were premature! Right in the next paragraph, she let's go of the man's hand, starts walking faster to pull ahead of him and says over her shoulder, "I probably shouldn't have come at all."
Oh my God, overcompensation to the nth degree! By trying to be excessively cool in order to cover her embarrassment, she made it only too obvious. (I must state here that, from the literary standpoint and for the sake of the character's true nature, this faux pas was the only possible action and it foreshadowed the novel's resolution. But let's get back to the overcompensating issue.)
Whether in intimate encounters like this one or in any other interactions with our partners, coworkers, bosses, subordinates, clients, casual acquaintances, and accidental contacts (e.g. a coffee shop's barista or a waiter), the true damage of overcompensating in social situations is the fact that it produces an effect exactly opposite to what you are trying to achieve. Instead of concealing your weaknesses and insecurities, you blow your cover and display your anxiety in its full nakedness to the very person whom you are trying to impress with your strength, power, independence, composure, superiority, or whatever.
This manifestation of one's social anxiety is incredibly hard to control. For self-aware people it's like the mortal battle between the consciousness and the subliminal impulses. And because the latter work faster, there is frequently not enough time to bite your tongue or correct your attitude. You say to yourself, "When you see her, smile sweetly as if everything is fine. She doesn't need to know that you feel tortured." But then you actually see her, and the pain comes all over your face without you even registering it.
It doesn't matter how cocky and confident you appear most of the time. If from time to time your tendency to overcompensate gets out of control, everyone exposed will know that you have weaknesses and buttons that can be pushed. In fact, the worst cases of overcompensating I ever observed were presented by individuals who are generally perceived as self-assured and even arrogant (yours truly is included).
I don't know whether people like me, who are really afflicted with the propensity to overcompensate, should be giving any advices on the matter. Still, I would like to share my thoughts.
When I analyze the situations, in which I managed to have a full grip on my compensatory urges, I find that not saying anything at all works the best – just staring without letting your eyes show any emotions at all, not uttering a word. For me personally, it turns out to be even better than coming up with a seemingly appropriate response, because what appears witty and so fucking right at the moment, may seem dull, stupid, inappropriate, and powerless after the retrospective self-analysis that will, no doubt, come sooner or later. And it doesn't matter if what you said actually worked on the other person. Insecurity is incredibly self-centered. For us, it is not about what actually happened, it's about how it makes Us feel.
So, silentium est aurum. In fact, I have various short and long "Stop Talking" notes to myself placed in strategic locations everywhere – a note in my iPhone, an enveloped card in my pocketbook, a letter in my office diary, an earmarked entry in my desktop notebook at home, a sticky in my pencil drawer, etc., etc. Do they help? 95% of the time in professional situations; 50% with strangers; almost never with those who cause me personal pain – that's where we are the weakest.
The Frustrated CFO 