I was told recently that I have missed my life's calling and that I am wise beyond my years. While it's a wonderful compliment and nice to think about, the topic of discussion is why this experience has meant so much to me. I spent an evening talking with an old classmate and spouse about their marriage. One of them even said I had given more useful advice than any of the people they had paid.
I'm not writing to discuss their marriage. The issues in their marriage are between them. I'm writing about myself. I recently took a two week trip to the east coast, and this is one of several eye-opening and self-validating experiences I had along the way.
I went back home for my ten year high school reunion. Traveling from Los Angeles to Asheville, NC, I held the record this time around for greatest distance traveled to get to the reunion. On top of this, I also held the record for most divorces (at two). Of course everyone asked me how I like California, and the response that I gave was that I fit in better out here--being a liberal, an atheist, and a relatively aggressive driver. As the two-day event went on, eventually I realized that this is actually not true.
What's really been vexing me since then, though, is why. In attempting to pin down a specific reason for this feeling, the best I've been able to elucidate is my difficulty in finding community out here. While my general philosophies fit in better out here, I still find myself alone and without a true friend nearly four years in. Furthermore, I haven't been single this long since early in high school. My theory is that Los Angeles is full of so many materialistic users-of-people that every initial meeting has an artificial barrier of distrust and uneasiness that must be slowly broken down over time; anything that makes you look exceptionally friendly, open, intelligent, or trustworthy is assumed to be a front--an attempt to portray yourself as something you truly aren't in order to position yourself better to take advantage of someone less guarded.
Or perhaps after marrying a woman who wasn't the person she portrayed and having her cheat and leave me for another man, maybe I'm the one distrusting and guarded. (Who needs therapy when you have a blog, eh?)
Spending time with my classmates helped to remind me of whom I really am. I went to school with these people from middle school to high school, so they were present for the most profound example of self-discovery I've had in my entire life: I'm smart. As stated unprompted by one of my classmates, I'm "the smartest guy in our class." You may be reading this and thinking that I'm arrogant or egotistical for just bringing it up, but my intelligence is one of many defining characteristics. With my class mates, I don't have to prove this. To my own initial surprise at the time, I already have... over and over again. If anything, my biggest dream for the past ten years has been to show up at the reunion and prove that this isn't all I am. I never imagined that I would show up to my reunion alone, but I can't imagine how I could have differentiated myself better if I had not been alone.
I bought a book many years ago when I originally began learning about the Myers-Briggs typology. The description of my type was, "performing noble service to aid society." For many years, I did not truly understand, and I even felt a little like a failure to my own personality type. In the past year, I've realized that I've been doing this all along, but I do it under a different guise: I'm a rescuer and a protector. I've always been one to keep an eye open when I see people in sticky situations, ready to offer help in whatever way I can.
This is actually the one thing I loved most about my five-year job at Radio Shack. I regularly got to help people understand things that they otherwise wouldn't have had a chance to understand. It was a commission-based job, but I'm not a sales person. I was unwilling to jump through the company's hoops and pressure customers into completely unrelated gimmicks. Unfortunately, this meant I was never paid well, but I loved it anyway.
My "noble service" has always been something I do for an individual. For me, it's like improving society one random act of kindness at a time. I don't do laundry for people, mow lawns for my neighbors, volunteer at the homeless shelter, or even help old ladies cross the street. I do, however, put money in expired parking meters, smile and wave at little kids, fix random broken things, and I do my best to make sure the stranger sitting next to me on the plane is as comfortable as possible. For this most recent trip, that involved talking with woman for hours and sharing the music on my iPhone with her. I even managed to find a pair of artists that spoke to her so perfectly that she cried to the lyrics of the songs (that would be The Indigo Girls).
There was enough about her that made this a non-starter as far as a romantic relationship is concerned (she lives on the far side of the continent, has a kid, and is married). If it weren't for all of this, I think we each would have been interested in the other, and this was surprising. It's been a really really long time since I've felt that kind of mutual interest, and it really meant a lot to me. Furthermore, this experience also reminded me of the fact that I have been completely unsuccessful in finding someone with whom I share my basic philosophical beliefs. The people I get along best with are those least likely to also be atheists, as people driven by emotion are the least likely to subscribe to a logical philosophy that implies that as part of the universe, we truly are small and meaningless in the grand scheme of things.
My two distinct rescue attempts at my class reunion both represent the epitome of me, and both are events that the "rescued" would probably prefer I not divulge in detail (one is not discussed at all). As I mentioned in a blog entry nearly two years ago, I'm aware that my habit of rescuing people has gotten me into relationships that probably shouldn't have lasted remotely as long as they did. I've learned that while the people I help out are exceptionally grateful, and women love a man that has come to her rescue, this is definitely not a good way to start a long-term relationship.
Despite the detail that an incredibly small number of people experienced this side of me at the reunion, I still feel like this counts as success. Regardless of whether anyone ever mentions anything again, I know I made a big difference in several people's lives--at least for a little while, and that has made all the difference to me.
