When I see a stranger on the street, my imagination is spurred. These are just a few of the things that happen as I’m silently contemplating other nameless human beings.
If it’s an adult, I assume the person has most likely had sex. Like, passionate love-making sex. And then I picture their facial expressions and I get embarrassed.
If the person is old, I imagine they’ve raised children, buried friends, buried their parents, seen a war, and now feel forgotten.
If it’s a cute girl, I try to assess how she has managed to look cute, then I make a mental notes to steal her style.
Unfortunately, due to my morbid curiosity, I often imagine what unattractive strangers look like when they are buck naked.
When the person is an old man, I automatically assume that he’s “seen some shit” so no one should fuck with him.
I imagine every person has broken down and sobbed at least once in their life.
If it’s a homeless person, I wonder if they have ever been in love.
If it’s a teenager, I assume that they’ve probably started having sex. And then I get grossed out as I realize that my friends and I were that young when we did it for the first time.
If they have a unique outfit on (good or bad), I imagine that person getting ready for the day, looking in the mirror, and saying, “Okay, yes, this works!”
If it’s a cute boy, I immediately feel guilty for even noticing that the guy is cute (and now I feel guilty for writing that — sorry Lou!).
If it’s a small child, I worry about their home life.
And if I recognize a “stranger” to be someone I know, I get really excited (I ran into my brother in a Target parking lot one time and I got giddy…even though I had just seen him the day before at family dinner).
Happy Friday, everyone!
Now enjoy this song about humans…