Was the date that didn’t take place.
I didn’t really want it to. It was a dopamine laden decision, based on an old hope in person that’s only ever proved that hope wrong. So it was the best because not one moment of my precious time was wasted. Every second to set it up brought me just high enough that when I fell I didn’t hurt myself. In fact, after a few machinations, I felt blessed to have escaped.
So I went out anyway and met another beautiful stranger, another sprinkle on my ice cream.
I was speaking to *** and admiring Joes old dog, laying still on the floor taking in all of the scenery. From the bistro table next to me, Joe was listening to the conversation I was having with *** while they were working. Joe asked if we were family. I said yes, as in the built kind, not the blood kind. A conversation commenced for about an hour, and I eventually learned that the conversation was an exercise for Joe, like a new skill he was practicing. He was learning to open up and speak his feelings. And he used a discernment to tell how far he could go in any conversation, and he said he was really open with me. It felt safe to him.
You know, I felt honored and like I accomplished something in those few moments. Like me, Joe writes and paints. He said his home is overfull with paintings. I wondered if that was possible.
I think I saw his art on his phone and it was phenomenal, similar in some ways to what I create.
He found my theory of the “Borrowed Self” intriguing and saw exactly what I meant and said, if it is true and so prevalent, it’s quite a shame but explains many things.
What troubled me about Joe was how he reminded me of someone and the many moments in our conversation that I wondered if he was sent to give me a bit of clarity to the parts and thoughts of that person, that I cannot see. Parts of themselves, they actually may not even see. Joe looked to be in his 70s and he said he was just beginning to learn these things! Fuck me!
Epiphanies.