On Meeting a Stranger

No matter what the circumstances, everyone must have a touch of uncertainty that flashes, perhaps unconsciously, through them. Why are we bothering? What will this person want from me? What do I want from her? Will this meeting matter in the long run? Does it make a difference in the short? 

There might be excitement in that initial instant, maybe interest that is sometimes even sexual. But this second of impact—less than a second, sometimes longer—is intrusion into the solitude.

Chances are you'll soon be thinking of the next meeting, or the next words you’ll say, or which way to the bathroom, or what shall I eat for lunch

BUT for a tick at that first meeting, perhaps a heartbeat in length, instinct is there and it cuts through the rules and civilization to make one a apprehensive animal. 
where did this picture come from?
I don't know.

No wonder social fear rules some people’s lives.

Sometimes that flash is looking into the abyss and realizing how alone we are in these meat suits. At best it’s interesting brush with the unknown, meeting up with potential: here is someone who can hurt you, give you pleasure, ignore you, bore you, and you must be prepared to meet any one of these possibilities without the fine communication sources animals have. 

Too bad the internal animal that rears up for these moments doesn't provide more help. A hand shake or a nod or rote words of greeting aren’t as honest or informative as a butt sniff, but they're all we have to go by.


Popular posts from this blog

what I'm talking about above--the letter in RWR

My Writing Day with an Unproductive Brain