"Must be exhausting". He was perhaps a little younger than me, but it is often hard to tell, but I would guess him to be somewhere in his fifties, a short, balding dumpy little guy who didn't seem to much like engaging with others. I first talked to him when I offered him the newspaper I had put aside, because I wanted to work on some art while sheltering in the coffee shop from the rain. Not even saying thanks anyway, he just said, "Nah, I already know what's going on in the world.". And I concurred that with the internet we tend to find things out really fast. He seated himself at a table near mine, facing me, and began to attack his lunch with gusto. He ate with the self-absorbed abstraction of someone who has never shared a meal in his life. It was really quite disgusting, and as he shoved his sandwich in his mouth I really came to understand in a new way the term pie hole.
Perhaps because he could see me watching him, but more likely he just wanted to move, but as he was changing tables I noticed that his umbrella had been left behind, so I reminded him. In a mildly defensive tone he assured me that he had not forgotten it, and by way of making an excuse I mentioned that I work in support services, so I'm in the habit of watching out for others. That was when he said that it must be exhausting. I replied that I love it. I didn't quite pick up his reply, but decided to let it go.
I know absolutely nothing about that person, though I did get a sense that he was probably an introvert, likely not with a lot of, if any, close friends. Some people don't have close friends, and they really seem okay with it. I don't know. For me that would be a sad and lonely existence. But there are those who so love themselves, and really only love themselves, And that truly fits with the ethos de jour. We are supposed to love ourselves. We can only love others if we love ourselves. But really, when you already love yourself, why bother waste your effort and energy on someone else. Why make love to your partner when you already have a bottle of baby oil on your bedside table? (not that I wish to be vulgar Gentle Reader, and really there are many diffenent uses for baby oil. But I don't think I would use it for frying onions!)
Of course, doing any kind of support work can be exhausting. Sometimes it is. So is working the cash till at a No Frills, or a Shopper's Drug Mart. On occasion I have found my job exhausting. Occasionally there is that client from hell. Or that supervisor from hell (I'm just in the process of bailing from that kind of supervisor) But if I were given a choice of occupations, I still would not be working in a No Frills or in a Shoppers. I love what I do.
Indeed, without love, I would not be able to do my job. Without love, I would be coming home exhausted every day. Without love, I would be a reasonably happy introvert, keeping everybody away from me, a dumpy balding old guy mindlessly stuffing my pie hole while playing Texas Holdum on my laptop or looking at cat videos on Youtube. I would love myself, sure, and likely no one else, because for me no one else would have existence.
It isn't that I can't be alone. I love being alone. Today I walked, alone, into East Vancouver. Sometimes greetings were exchanged with friendly strangers. I came home, and I live alone. I had lunch alone in my little apartment, did some art, took a long nap, then did some more art after which I had a visit on Skype with an old and very dear friend. Yesterday I was chatting with two other close friends, in Colombia and Costa Rica. In between those visits, I spent the day alone, when I encountered the little introverted guy in the coffee shop.
I am comfortable alone. And I love being with people. It isn't that I love myself, or not, nor that I just love others. Rather, I love all of us, because when it is really love, then we don't have to distinguish between self and the other, because it is love that draws us together and it is love that makes us all one.
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