Tuesday, January 31, 2006

A Tale of Empathy

There’s this girl you really don’t like. She isn’t pretty, not charming. She can probably be attractive in the spunky kind of girl-next-door way (if that’s your type), but that’s just about it. She’s always really game for a late night out, able to take care of herself thereby freeing you of that obligation, and up for a conversation about the news, weather, and so-so. You know for someone else she’s lovable, and for some other people she’s a friend, but you, well you don’t like her and it seems, she doesn’t like you either, and the only common ground you have is the knowledge that it’s alright for you both to show your mutual dislike.

You don’t like her because she has a tendency to become obnoxious one some days, when she's having those insomnia spells or other psycho-wacko claims she makes. She has a terrible sleeping calendar - she’s awake for nights in a row and asleep for the next few days. You might even speculate that she’s always in a PMS mode – you've heard her complaining about her irregular period. She’s definitely not someone you can count on to be on time all the time, and definitely someone to steer away from on those so-called days – those days she’s a magnet for trouble and you don’t really have time (or interest) for that. She’s stubborn as a rock, and snaps back when you go on telling her the right way to do things. She doesn’t like you because, well, frankly you don’t understand why. But just to give her the benefit of the doubt, she probably has her own reasons.

But you work with her, there are only two of you assigned in that distant city far away from your own homes, plus your mutual boss. You are obliged by some force (i.e. the company you both work for) to be friends. After all, in other distant city assignments, you’ve heard your fellow “exiled” colleagues get along.

And so, with the unavoidable monthly meetings, you meet. And occasionally, you get to talk openly about the suburb life – the small city circles almost impossible to penetrate, your work, the usual small talk. During these talks, you get to share the lonely absence of companionship for the mundane, daily life. You even almost mutually start to consider that she might as well do for those lonesome holidays spent away from your home. But mutually as well, you back off, saying to each other in the most diplomatic manner you can imagine – “Oh no, you can’t just point at a person and say, ‘hey, let’s be friends.’” So for the moment you are saved, you need not spend time with this girl you don’t like.

One night she surprises you. You find her in the city’s place to be, with her own circle of friends, and she almost seems like she’s enjoying herself. You feel slightly relieved that you are finally unburdened to entertain her in that distant city away from your own homes. You wonder a bit how long she’s had local friends, but you immediately shrug off the thought – she’s not your problem anyway.

As for you, the next day you hear about a girl who just moved near your pad, just 3 doors away. You saw her coming in the other night and you instantly like her. You want her to be your friend, or maybe something more won’t hurt. She’s pretty, she’s charming. You knock on her door, and you find out that the way to enter her life is to befriend the girl you don’t like – apparently, she’s got to her before you did, and they’re in the same circle. You can almost imagine the nasty things the obnoxious girl must have said about you - you were, after all, just a stranger to the nice girl at the time.

But you really like the girl, so you try. You make a fool of yourself as you walked in the café where they hang out but that’s ok. You act like maybe the obnoxious girl didn’t really say bad things about you, and that maybe you can start over with a clean slate. But the obnoxious girl remembers how you openly showed your spite for her, and the nice girl also knows.

Posted by xam :: Tuesday, January 31, 2006 :: 0 Comments:

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