I went to a late dinner tonight – though, I only had churros, and intentionally so* – with two other younger adults, early twenties. Afterward, the girl was discussing how she was annoyed at the guy’s behavior, that he was rude and that the dinner was pointless.
I disagreed with her. I told her that I felt the guy was lonely. He invited us to hang out for a quick dinner, as he put it, and then he told us that he had plans for afterward. When just he and I had been hanging initially, I really enjoyed hearing all about his work and his passion for it. I think he’s a really nice guy who wants to be loved and accepted, and is a bit lonely, and is still working on how to handle all of that.
She said to me, “That’s a really mature way of thinking about it.”
My first thought, after my initial stun, of course, was, Well, duh…
The irony of that thought did not evade me. 😛
Having observed her behavior at the dinner and time the three of us were together, and listened to her words and her guidance of the main conversation, I knew she did not see it how I did (at least, not until I shared with her about it.). And yet, I couldn’t imagine seeing things the way she (and sometimes the guy) saw and evaluated things. I just don’t think that way. To use her phrasing, I almost always think maturely about it all. Anything less makes no sense to me.
But my aunt always said I was born 25 and only ever got older…
*They were my chocolate bar the priest told me to eat this weekend, my intentional small pleasure.