He Who Hesitates

I'm someone who hesitates. It might be linked to my increasing risk aversity, (a function of growing older and seeing the end of my mortgage heave into sight), but lately I've become much more keenly aware of my hesitation. I did it today, whilst driving. I was coming onto a roundabout, the only car coming from the right was indicating to go off at the exit before me. but did I move boldly onto the roundabout? No, I hesitated to make sure that the aforementioned car really was going where he was indicating. Consequently, I had to really put my foot down when I did move, as other cars had now appeared from the right and weren't indicating to exit before me. Now, arguably this hesitation was born of experience of other motorist's inability to correctly use their indicators, the fact was that, even if he hadn't have taken that exit, I still would have had time to get onto the roundabout before him. But still I hesitated. It seems ingrained into my psyche, this instinctive desire to minimise risks by sitting back and over-analysing the simplest situation, rather than just acting. The end result, of course, is that I frequently let opportunities slip between my fingers.

It happens with relationships, too. I spend too much time analysing what the other person has said to me and whether this indicates that they actually like me, etc. Once again, it's all about risk aversion - subconsciously I'm trying to avoid the risk of rejection by assessing its likelihood. Inevitably, my hesitation, (or even procrastination, or maybe prevarication, if you prefer), resulted in me missing the moment by giving the other person the impression that I wasn't interested. I think I did it again recently. I say, think, because it involved someone I've always had feelings for, which I've never articulated to them because I've never thought them reciprocated, so had instead settled for friendship with them. Anyway, over the past few weeks I'd begun to wonder whether things had changed from their perspective as a result of things they'd done and said but, as ever, spent too long thinking about it and the opportunity to act seems to have passed, and we're apparently back to normal. I should add here that I'm not fishing for sympathy - I'm simply trying to explain something about myself. Indeed, on a related note, a while ago I was pondering why I'm so afflicted by unrequited love, (in that the objects of my desire don't reciprocate my feelings, rather than the other way around), when, in an amazing piece of synchronicity, a programme came on the radio in which an academic discussed the medieval literary tradition of unrequited love. Apparently, to the medieval mind, the enduring of the suffering caused by unrequited love was seen as being ennobling - it was seen as a kind of knightly trial which strengthened a knight's virtue. So, maybe I'm subconsciously seeking these situations as part of some kind of spiritual quest. An interesting thought to leave you with...