The other night I was talking to a friend of mine about interesting
people. I no longer remember how the conversation started, but it
brought to mind another discussion I had had with a gentleman who
coincidentally shares a name with the man I had been speaking with last
night. On that spring evening of new beginnings we were talking about
attractive women, people in general, and a woman we both knew in
particular. I knew my friend was fond of her. I didn't blame him for she
possessed a lot of what men like; youth, exceptional beauty, and
intelligence. She was a friend of mine, and I was confused by his
comparison of me,
to her.
It's of interest to me that in this day of instant communication we
still find ways to wriggle out of relationships whose bonds have become
restrictive. Last night I had to be careful when I was talking to my
friend. He's told me that he admires me, if circumstances were
different, maybe I could go out with him, but I don't have that freedom. During our interesting people dialogue I told
him that I knew many fascinating people. Later, when I was alone again, I
thought about how many interesting people I know, and how their lives
have touched mine.
In the dark, I contemplated gifts, the act of gift giving, and
decided that receiving gifts graciously is an art. I had questioned my
long lost friend after he gave me and another woman similar gifts. His
response was peculiar, and although he's lied to me about various things
in the past, few things resonate like true statements. He could have
given more to her than to me, and maybe others think that he should
have. I did at the time. Now my opinion has changed. His present had no
monetary value, words are a deeper wisdom
than anything a man could buy for me in a gift shop, that was his real gift to me.
Last night's friend asked me about that gift I had received. I had to think
about it for a while before I could answer him. Recently I read an
article about being an interesting person. I have my own ideas about
what makes people interesting. People who find me interesting are often
interesting to me. Funny how that works, isn't it? I no longer have what
I was given years ago, part of it I spent on him as a way to thank him
for his generosity. This is ancient history now, he's acquired new
interests, and I'm happy for him although I still treasure the memories I
have of our conversations mainly because he was insightful which I
still find interesting.
It's taken me a ridiculously long time to recognize a truth I wasn't ready for when it was delivered. I didn't
believe his comment that I was interesting when I first heard it.
Because I was insecure, I thought he was just being nice, because he's a
nice guy. Today I can no longer deny the truth of what he said. I love
meeting interesting people. I collect them, and I remember them fondly
even after we've each gone our separate ways. My final gift to you, and
the two men with the same name, is the wish that you will live in the
most interesting of times along with the most interesting of people.
Cheers.