I have a terrible weakness for good news. Other peoples success, accomplishments, and surprises are an instant empathy shot of endorphins and I’m genuinely happy and excited for them.
Unfortunately this doesn’t extend to my own surprises. I’m especially bad at surprises. I have a 7-second delay (like for profanity at the Oscars) that it takes for my brain communicate surprise = “good” so I can react properly.
This means I will never be a Woo Girl.
I’ve had friends over the years who were Woo girls. Woo girls are always fun, guys buy them drinks, and hang around them on the dance floor.
It’s rare that I’ve personally been moved to spontaneously “Woo” in public. I can distinctly remember the following: once at a Stones concert, my friend’s kids graduation from a stuffy private school that frowned on verbal displays, and the last Michael Franti concert I attended. There may have been others.
My lovely, super-upbeat Jazzercise instructor uses “Woos” as an energy feed back loop while she’s teaching and always says “Can I get a Woo?!” I would love to help her out but I think I would need a six hour dance marathon with alcohol and no choreography before I could oblige.
A few weeks ago, I think my husband was hoping for “Woo” when he sprung on me a very lovely and incredibly thoughtful, romantic surprise. Instead of shrieks, screams, or woos, he got the 7-second delay Poker Face. Notice I didn’t say “Bitch Face” (see Bias, Gender.)
But, after twenty-two years together, he knows my reactions and didn’t seem fazed. He knowingly married this Poker Face.
So after the fact this is my version of a public Woo to my thoughtful, handsome, wicked smart husband who continues to surprise me with the depth of his love for me and our daughter.
Hey Mr. Man, my inner Woo Girl has her hands in the air.