There was a woman once who told me that she didn't know how to say all the things she desperately wanted to tell her loved ones. Specifically her husband. Turns out she married him from a drive out of the fear of being the single old maid in the family and not from a heart of adoration for him. "He's a really nice guy and I liked him well enough," she told me one day. "But I didn't love him."
I stared at her for a moment. "Do you love him now?"
She stared at me for a minute. "Yes?"
How I get in to these conversations is beyond me. I must have an honest, trusting face, or my eyes beg for strangers to tell me their secrets. I don't really want to know their secrets, because then I'll remember them every time I see them from now on. Even if we never talk again, I will never forget the anguish in the face of a man who once blurted out that he voted against his gut instincts in an election because he had a crush on a girl in accounting and he wanted to impress her in the break room. I especially won't forget the vivid detail he used in describing the tattoo of a wilder beast on her calf muscle and how she decided to get it done on a night when her common sense was low due to her alcohol intake, and how that somehow turned him on. I think there's a reason she's in accounting.
Stored inside my cranium is a million different pieces of information dealing with hundreds of people I have never met but yet are a part of my community and I commonly see, all due to the inability of their wife/barrister/brother/banker/cousins/ex-lovers/child/archenemy's inability to not share with me the things that are 'burning on their soul'. There is a man who walks everyone he goes because he spends all of his money on Legos. His bed is made of Legos. Apparently he is ashamed to admit this to anyone. But his childhood best friend felt the need to blurt this out to me after growing frustrated with making Lego man understand that his girlfriend in the corner was not real. This knowledge makes it awkward for me to stand in Lego's man checkout line when I've made a run for 'necessities'.
There is a point in sharing this disturbing development of my adult life with you. That is this: if you feel the need to talk to someone about a person you know, don't. Because you never know how reliving yourself of the burden of the knowledge of your fellow church goer's dealings with the dog groomer may make it awkward for that person to smile at them while they wait on them at the restaurant they work at.
One day all secrets will come to light, but I don't need to know all of those secrets before that day.
Smile wide, accept that someone you know is different, and face the truth: you want to share what makes that person odd because there is something that makes you odd, and you don't know how to deal with it. It's okay. We all have our quirks. Take me for example...
Wait, you don't want to know that. :)
I stared at her for a moment. "Do you love him now?"
She stared at me for a minute. "Yes?"
How I get in to these conversations is beyond me. I must have an honest, trusting face, or my eyes beg for strangers to tell me their secrets. I don't really want to know their secrets, because then I'll remember them every time I see them from now on. Even if we never talk again, I will never forget the anguish in the face of a man who once blurted out that he voted against his gut instincts in an election because he had a crush on a girl in accounting and he wanted to impress her in the break room. I especially won't forget the vivid detail he used in describing the tattoo of a wilder beast on her calf muscle and how she decided to get it done on a night when her common sense was low due to her alcohol intake, and how that somehow turned him on. I think there's a reason she's in accounting.
Stored inside my cranium is a million different pieces of information dealing with hundreds of people I have never met but yet are a part of my community and I commonly see, all due to the inability of their wife/barrister/brother/banker/cousins/ex-lovers/child/archenemy's inability to not share with me the things that are 'burning on their soul'. There is a man who walks everyone he goes because he spends all of his money on Legos. His bed is made of Legos. Apparently he is ashamed to admit this to anyone. But his childhood best friend felt the need to blurt this out to me after growing frustrated with making Lego man understand that his girlfriend in the corner was not real. This knowledge makes it awkward for me to stand in Lego's man checkout line when I've made a run for 'necessities'.
There is a point in sharing this disturbing development of my adult life with you. That is this: if you feel the need to talk to someone about a person you know, don't. Because you never know how reliving yourself of the burden of the knowledge of your fellow church goer's dealings with the dog groomer may make it awkward for that person to smile at them while they wait on them at the restaurant they work at.
One day all secrets will come to light, but I don't need to know all of those secrets before that day.
Smile wide, accept that someone you know is different, and face the truth: you want to share what makes that person odd because there is something that makes you odd, and you don't know how to deal with it. It's okay. We all have our quirks. Take me for example...
Wait, you don't want to know that. :)
