Self-disclosure

Hallmark movies are my thing. While I'm not ashamed to admit it, I am slightly embarrassed. I've taken great care to create a certain facade--one in which I appear to be practically stoic, pragmatic and unemotional--but I'm actually quite the opposite. I'm the overly sentimental, daydreamy type. You could even say I'm a borderline romantic, considering my love of sappy Hallmark movies (especially around the Holidays) and affinity for eighteenth and nineteenth literature. I identify with the protagonists in many, if not all, of Austen's work. The women are strong, emotionally and mentally, and confident about there abilities and skills, rather than their superficial aesthetics. Yet, interestingly, the protagonists seem to admire and fall in love with handsome men whom are more attractive aesthetically than the women themselves. Maybe it's the inevitability of the plot that attracts me; the fact that a union between protagonist and the handsome and accomplished, not to mention morally sound, man is destiny. Is it the fact that such a dashing man could overlook superficialiries and love and admire a woman for more than just her appearance? Nowadays, men and women put much emphasis on looks, less on personality and values, or so it seems. This is besides the point. I identify with these female character, and I deeply desire an outcome much like theirs, despite the fact (I'm capable of acknowledging) I'm not the same homely, plain type aesthetically. However, I am sentimental and somewhat of a mystic underneath my, occasionally, icy exterior. I guess I'm just that emotional, secretly sensitive, writerly type. Why though do I find it distasteful and difficult to admit my preoccupation with these holiday movies? Admitting it is like being mauled by a bear with your innards spilling out. Actually, I described a horrific scene, when I'm just expressing the idea of vulnerability. It's difficult to be vulnerable. Just yesterday I experienced vulnerability, needing to self disclose personal information on a coffee date. No matter how often and simple it is to talk about oneself, it's somewhat scary to divulge information. Fear of rejection? Or fear of disapproval? Fear of over sharing; tmi, colloquially speaking? Maybe, like many things, the answer is a convoluted mixture of nonsensical things that are really quite simple.