Seven (and a Half) Quirks I Should Probably Keep to Myself — But Won’t
I was meandering through Technorati the other day, checking in on what folks out there on the web are saying about us—at least the brave ones who actually link back—when I stumbled across WAH(Web)Mommy sharing her weirdness with the world. It was charmingly eccentric and almost had me filing her under “delightfully OCD,” a bin already well-populated by about half the women I’ve loved (including my wife).
And then… she called me out.
So, in the true spirit of exhibitionist bloggers everywhere, I accept the challenge. Here are seven and a half things you probably didn’t want to know about me—but now can’t un-know.
1. My Hand Shakes When I Talk to Strangers on the Phone
Cold calls are rough for most people. For me, they’re physically punishing. Back in the day, my wife could always tell when I’d been making business calls—because my phone hand would still be shaking long after I hung up. Years later, even though I’m much more comfortable with it, the tremors still come back. Like a weird little adrenaline echo.
2. Don’t Touch That Pile
I suffer from a particular mnemonic curse: Out of sight, out of mind. Literally. So I make piles. Not just messy ones—strategic ones. To coexist peacefully with my wonderfully organized wife, we’ve come to a truce. I’ve been assigned designated pile zones, and as long as my stacks stay within their boundaries, all is well.
Break quarantine, though, and… well. Let’s not talk about what happens when my “urgent but chaotic” piles are moved.
3. Please, Don’t Crunch Near Me
Nails on a chalkboard? Child’s play. But if you start crunching a pretzel, granola bar, or bowl of cereal within 10 feet of me… brace yourself. I’ll tense up. I’ll wince. And if I love you? I’ll probably snap.
“Why would you come near me with that bowl of shredded wheat when you know I’ll have to leave the room?!”
No idea where this came from, but I’ve genuinely considered regressive therapy. Love makes you do crazy things—like not yelling at your spouse for chewing.
4. No Food or Toenails in Bed
You’d think this rule would come from a clean freak. I’m… not that guy. I’m the guy who wears the same shirt all week because I forgot to change. The guy who used to do laundry every 2–3 months (true story: I just bought more underwear).
But for reasons I can’t fully explain, bed is sacred. Food and toenail clippings are gross in bed. Floors? Whatever. Beds? Line in the sand.
5. Bring on the Fear
I’m obsessed with personal growth. Always have been. Fear is my compass.
Terrified of heights? Took up rock climbing.
Felt painfully alone? Traveled solo around the world.
Hated cold calls? Joined a hotline where I talked to strangers for four-hour shifts, then spent five years in cold-calling network marketing.
I’m happiest right at the razor’s edge of discomfort—the exact point where change happens.
6. I Can’t Hear You (Really)
My superpower is focus. I can block out an entire coffee shop’s worth of noise and get things done. The flip side? I genuinely don’t hear people talking to me.
This is not great if you’re married.
My wife used to think I was ignoring her. Now she just throws something soft in my direction to break the trance.
7. I Believe in Fate… and Have No Patience for Spirituality
My life has been full of moments too synchronistic to explain.
Once, my 80-year-old grandmother called me at 2am her time—completely out of character. She said:
“It’s time to let go of your anger toward your parents. They did their best. They love you. You need to grow up and let it go.”
Then she said goodnight, hung up… and passed away the next day.
Things like this have happened to me often enough that I’m a strong believer in fate and karmic circles. And yet—when someone starts talking about spirituality? My internal alarms go off.
“Charlatan incoming! Prepare the magic bean detectors!”
I know it’s a double standard. I just haven’t figured it out yet. Maybe it’s because spirituality is too often used as a wedge instead of a bridge. Maybe I’m just jaded. Still working on that one.
Bonus Quirk: I Love to Dance… Just Not Quite in Sync
I love to dance. And I’m decent. But get me in a crowd and something becomes obvious:
I’m always a half-beat ahead of everyone else.
Can’t help it. That’s just where the rhythm lands for me. Still works, but if you’re dancing next to me, be warned—you’ll either feel inspired or slightly thrown off.
You’re Next, Sucka
I’m a firm believer that misery loves company—and that every blogger is at least a little bit of an exhibitionist.
So if you’re reading this and you’ve got a blog… consider yourself tagged.
Pull back the curtain. Share your weirdness. I promise it won’t make me love you less—in fact, probably the opposite.
And while you’re here… got any quirks of your own you want to confess? Leave a comment. I promise to listen, respond, and avoid eating cereal while I do it.