I’ve met a stranger.
As a matter of fact, anybody I come across whom I’ve never met and with whom I exchange “how-do-you-dos” is a stranger to me. At least he or she is initially. Once the initial pleasantries have been spoken and the back-and-forth of “Hi, how are you?, “Just fine, how are you?” etc, etc, has been exchanged, well then, and only then, might that person become an acquaintance, someone to whom I may get to know better. But I will probably stop there.
Are you like that?
Or are you someone who has “never met a stranger?”
There are plenty of people like that walking this planet. Indeed, never meeting a stranger is another trait of mankind that makes the world go round.
I marvel at and admire those who have never met a stranger.
It takes an outgoing personality, a certain degree of confidence, a gift of gab, a mega-smile, and sometimes a kind of swagger. It must be in their nature to really, really, really like people.
My father was that way (sans the swagger). I remember an instance where we would be traveling to the beach as a family and would stop to get some gas. This was in the days of gas station attendants. He would step out of the car, extend his hand to the attendant, say his name, and they were off and running. By the time the tank was full, the old man had become fast friends with the guy: name, where he was from, family, work, and so on. I know from tagging along with my father as a youngster that he was always extremely congenial and talkative to people, whether he knew them or not.
I have another good friend who has never met a stranger. When I go to dinner with her, and I try to act like a gentleman and let her order first, I sometimes regret it. Not only will she ask about the menu and place her order, but she will then proceed to ask questions and talk about everything under the sun with this waitron whom she has never met. I’m waiting patiently, hungrily, to place my order. The next thing I know they are laughing and carrying on. If I’m not careful, our waiter will walk away after an amusing conversation with my friend. But yet I’ve been practically forgotten and am in a state of “Hey! What about me?” I have to remind the person (after sometimes waving them down) that I too would like something to eat.
Then there are those who have the gumption to walk up to a table of six to eight people at a restaurant or a club, cheerily introduce themselves, and the next thing you know they’ve become fast friends with everybody at the table, laughing and bantering like they’ve all known each other for ages. I once watched a friend do that and was truly amazed.
Never wallflowers, there are those who can walk into a room practically full of strangers, be it a social or business occasion, and become fast friends with everybody.
Perhaps it is an innate thing, something in a person’s software, to be able to never meet a stranger. It certainly has to be under the right circumstances. For there is something called “stranger danger” that is very real. It is of those unknown people one would be wise to steer clear.
I was always told to “be yourself.” In which case, I am not a never-met-a stranger kind of person. Not shy, but not willing or wanting or having the desire or even ability to get to know someone I don’t know so instantly.
But I must say, I do sometimes envy those who can go through life never meeting strangers. They have all the friends in the world. Except there is always another one out there: another friend to meet.