Risk

The closer you get to someone you love, the more opportunity there is for you to dislike parts of them. I guess the closer you get to someone you dislike, the more opportunity there is to love parts of them.

Puhg and I had a perfect we-work-from-home-brunch at the hip taco shop. He got two potato ones, peeled off the label, stuck it to himself. I said, "this is my favorite drink" about the Summer Chiller. He said, "ever?" I said, "Yeah. I think so." It was Topo Chico with lime and a simple syrup over ice in the sun cut with vegan Mexican. I adored a scenelet during the lunch rush--this older man (bald, chubby) carrying his tray with two young, hip co-workers. I thought the unlikely friends were cute. It was easy to see from two tables away. But what do I know? Maybe he tagged along and they rolled their eyes and maybe for good reason. We don't know.

This week I felt frustrated with multiple friends. Some was warranted and some was made up. We're so close I think I know when I'm being dismissed, and they, I think, know when I'm dismissing them. And then there's unfair reasons why maybe someone is annoyed. Like when I am not upset and then someone decides I am and they are upset with me for being upset (not upset). This is unsaid.

But that is the risk of caring and knowing and getting in there. Ultimately it comes down to this thing that apparently all people are different? That "Ugh why can't this person just do what I would do?" And at the same time liking, praising, that they are not me.