pom-poms and teardrops

recently i received a prestigious award from an industry source. of several thousand eligible restaurants in our greater metropolitan area, and hundreds of applicants, only sixty program directors won. this accomplishment was something my chef badly wanted me to achieve, and within the hiring process i assured him i would do so. it confers a certain aura of seriousness, truly complements the execution of his vision and brings the place to "the next level". i knew i could do it easily, but he seemed to perceive it as akin to juggling kittens while log-rolling.

the certificate has arrived and awaits framing. the awards issue of the magazine has been released, so his business and my name both appear in an international publication with half-a-million readers. many of these readers travel specifically to dine, so possess precisely the sort of disposable income that's the life-blood of fine dining joints.

investors, guests and co-workers all have congratulated me. yet he's said nothing. not a "thank-you", not a "well-done". silence. like it hasn't even happened.

this is how he is. this behavior is consistent within his breed. why does it still bother me so?

i've never had much of an inner cheerleader. she was always on the outside, shaking her pom-poms, leading the charge, regaling others with witty repartee and snappy come-backs, then feeding off the applause. is this consistent with only children, or just the outcome of my family's stinginess with approval? my mother is also an only, and usually the life of the party. but does this prove the former or the latter part of my question?

my current personal situation is one of zero emotional validation and miserly professional approbation. the person who'd be very proud of this achievement is incommunicado and wholly otherwise occupado. through him, i found i didn't need a room full of admirers. just one who was sincere. affirmation always flowed easily between us. there was no false building of esteem, nor empty praise. but now that dam is blocked on the one side. my canoe keeps bumping agaist it; my oars useless guides in the tides -- more like the wings on a stephens island wren.

what's an inner pat on the back feel like? am i limber enough to give myself one? and can you live a lifetime on them?