Don’t…Talk…To…Strangers

Aging can be a boon. Young women recognize there’s a permanent open season on pursuing females as sexual targets, regardless of what they’re wearing. We all know, whether or not we remember being told, that we should avoid making direct eye contact on the street. Desperate men can assume we’re seeking their attention. We need to be as anonymous and disinterested as possible. We grow older feeling like walking jelly donuts. Any young woman who watches FORENSIC FILES on TV can easily become paranoid in a world strewn with perverts.

But what about an older woman? No, she isn’t exempt—especially if she fits a minority profile, but she may be safer than a younger model. She’s usually a target for her possessions or maybe because she seems vulnerable. But a woman who stays active and strong may defy the stereotype. She’s free to take risks she might never have considered back when she turned heads. Yesterday, I gloried in my fresh wrinkle-faced ability to start conversations with strangers. (Okay, my husband was with me, but there was a time when even that insurance wasn’t enough.)

One of the most horrific casualties of the time since the U.S. changed mood is openness. People no longer trust one another. Artificial Intellligence didn’t help, of course. Kids aren’t the only ones who meet only online. We’ve all become AI-clones, spouting the proper response or none at all after a prompt. But there’s something magical about authentic face-to-face conversation with friends or strangers, a conversation that also involves eyes meeting up close. People have what some call a vibration. We mesh with certain others without any visible reason why, and more strangers are compatible with us than we expect, if we dare to find out. Yesterday my husband and I met two fascinating people who happened to be where we were. People who need people—yeah, that’s everyone not just the lucky ones, if we’re honest. What’s fun about an in-person office? Comradery. Jokes. Empathy. What can be killer about an office or forced social scene? An atmosphere of judgement and competition. Fake friendliness cracks under pressure and can make people sick.

In a waiting room, my husband and I encountered a guy who once shared music with Carlos Santana. We empathized with his recent grief. We also met a dynamic woman who has lived through near-death-experiences several times. We shared fresh energy that reminded us of how great humans can be. I love people, real people, people who aren’t preoccupied trying to decide if I’m an appropriate cultural fit. I chat at the gas pumps. I commiserate with others learning tai chi with me. People provide that invisible connection that can charge your batteries.

For some, Christmas is a time to sort right thinkers from wrong thinkers. It’s a time of gifts that come with receipts so they can be returned if they don’t suit particular tastes. It’s a time when you judge people by the greeting they give. Bah humbug. I loved meeting those people yesterday. The world is rich with personalities and stories I’d love to know. Yes, I need people who feel as open to me as I feel to them, but they’re all over the place. The magic is reciprocal. It doesn’t require gifts, just authenticity. “Don’t talk to strangers” belongs in the fake Old West.