FoxBoom!

Wow, this one’s been sitting in draft for months…

You find yourself sitting on a train, waiting to leave at the station platform.

In one hand, you have a ticket home which can only be used today. In the other, a ticket home which can be used only tomorrow.

The train won’t leave for a couple of minutes. You have time to make the decision. And what a decision.

I get could off the train, quick. I could stay another day… I could get hurt, or it could all be okay.

I could stay on the train. I could go home, lick my wounds and spend my week’s food budget on alcohol, and try again another day.

Risk it all; I could win and life would never be the same again, or I could lose and be found floating face-down in Cardiff Bay. Or play it safe and just carry another scar.

The moment was electric. I knew that whatever I decided, it would affect me for months afterwards.

I already had both tickets. There was no financial cost to worry about. Which ever way I went, I had food and water and a place to stay.

…and just as I stood up, the doors locked.

You know “that guy” who hangs around a bit longer than he should do at the end of a conversation, and makes you feel kinda awkward? Or “that guy” who sends you, like, three e-mails right after each other which make NO sense at all, and you just trash them and kinda hope he stops writing?

I think I’m turning into “that guy”.

“That guy” just wants so badly to tell his friends how he feels, but he opens his mouth and nothing comes out. “That guy” isn’t so much hanging around at the end of the conversation, but is just desperately wanting to start a new one.

People think “that guy” checks into hotels for cheap sex, but would you believe he actually checks in just to have a hot shower and cry on his emo-buddy’s shoulder?

And for every attention-seeking e-mail you get from “that guy”, he wrote at least twenty others which his common sense deleted before his loneliness could take over.

One of the toughest things for me is that, outside of work, all but one or two of my friends are… well, probably not really my friends. They’re my housemate’s friends. It’s great when we’re all hanging out and having fun, then then — oh man! They want to go and do their own thing, and I realise I’m “that guy” again.

One time, I even fell in love with one of his friends. The first couple of years were easy, because I denied it had happened. But then something happened, and it kinda took over. And now, a casual e-mail to see how he’s doing takes at least an hour and five drafts to write.

The point of all this is, don’t be too harsh to “that guy”. He probably already knows he’s pissing you off and getting in the way, but he doesn’t mean it. Just be nice, and offer him a hug and a cup of coffee occasionally.

Do you know someone who needs hours alone every day? Who loves quiet conversations about feelings or ideas, and can give a dynamite presentation to a big audience, but seems awkward in groups and maladroit at small talk? ["Caring for your Introvert", Jonathan Rauch.]