I have a bad habit of making up stories constantly. When I don’t know someone’s name, I infer it based on their personality and eventually call them whatever I’ve named them, much to their confusion. Just now, an androgynous boy came through my gate to drop off puppies to a children’s party and I couldn’t help but feel like he had the best life ever. I mean, I’m sure he gets made fun of for being an ugly girl or a femmey guy and he might cut himself every night as he weeps over emo music because he hates gathering a bunch of excited puppies up after a birthday party to scrape out a living, but he was wearing a bright orange shirt and has the job title Puppy Deliverer so I can’t help but imagine him skipping through a world of rainbows and baby animals. Being a puppy-for-hire is probably kind of like being a child actor though, except without the rampant alcoholism…maybe.
Wait! Damnit! I was trying to talk about how I make up stories about people and I got side-tracked thinking too much about exactly what I was talking about. It’s always made it really hard for me to meet strangers though because I do exactly that. I think, “Man, that guy is totally cute. I like that look he’s going for. But do I really want to hang out with a straight guy who wears sweaters like that? Maybe he is gay? That would make it really awkward if I boldly gave him my number. Plus I’d never be able to buy books here again. Also, he’s probably kind of a douche when you actually get to know him. I wonder if he hangs out with the dreadlocks guy that works here too? I bet they get drunk and make out all the time, all ivory white fingers entwined into his unwashed ebony hair. Probably not. They just sit and talk sophisticatedly over coffee in the food court, the sexual tension building to– oh shit, I’m missing my bus!”
It pretty much always happens like that. I talk myself out of talking to new people, then I extrapolate. It’s crazy fun though despite being totally inconvenient. I’d recommend people-watching my way any day.