To you, my friend, I would draw your attention to the first time we ever 'hung out' (for lack of a better phrase). Sometimes those are the memories that catch our attention in retrospect, because we see later that they come to be indicative of the whole of the budding friendship. Of course at times we do not "click" with someone right away, yet find later that we have developed a wonderful and fulfilling friendship with that person. That is valuable, and it is beautiful that such can happen.
I am not talking of one of those times here, for there are other types of 'first-time-we-hung-out-together's that are just....magic. Unforgettable.
We had a mutual class, and I was planning to spend one particular evening watching a movie to get research material for an approaching paper in said class. That afternoon, we fell into a conversation as we walked out of lecture, and I mentioned what my evening's activities would entail. You said you had been wanting to see that particular film, so I invited you over.
When you came, I was in the middle of making some collaboration to eat for dinner. This was lucky, for that is what gave us time to fall into chatting yet again. For me, it was one of those conversation where you cut right through all of the formalities, and get straight to the heart of who the other person is. It is rare that I feel I truly KNOW someone after hanging out once, but such it was. Of course, it is terribly unfair to assert that I had a true knowledge of your character, hopes, dreams, etc from one (albeit, lengthy) conversation. If this concerns you, rightly so. I will clarify. I suppose what I really knew was that you were in possession of a rare sort of genuineness.
What else do you need to see to feel you really know someone?
Think of it! When you know someone is genuine, you know the interactions that pass between you and them will be genuine; that they will always strive to present themselves as they really are. It takes a great deal of confidence to be as open as you are. Do not mistake what I am trying to say by my lack of a better set of vocabulary words. By 'open' I do not mean that you told me about your ailments, showed me your family tree, related to me details about your first kiss, and gave a faithful narrative of all of your most embarrassing moments. I mean that you embodied an ease, a frankness--a sort of rare, unguarded, way of looking at yourself and others. It was a quality that hinted at its innateness, unpracticed and natural. You do not know how well you do it, I am sure.
Looking back, trying to get in touch with myself, with you, with us as we were that evening in July 2010, looking past and through all that has happened since then until now, I can't help but ask myself: why are we as human beings so constantly on our guard? Who has hurt us so irreparably? What gross breach of humanity has made us feel that everyone is out to get us?
The answer: I do not know. I guess we all have our own story. Perhaps you, at some point, decided not to let your "story" keep you from maintaining a frankness with others who would learn from your example. I so admire you for it.
If you need further proof that this night had an impact on me, I would draw your attention here to an old post on this very blog, where I wrote about that week, including a line about the evening described here.
There we were. You, me, Johnny, Muffa (I never will know how to spell that), that red towel, the pasta...
I miss that night. I miss you. Thank you for your genuineness. A little of that goes a long way in our human interactions. A very long way.
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