I learned something today. I’m anti-social around strangers. I would rather hoof it alone than gather with the ‘other.’ My xenophobia isn’t pronounced, but it reveals itself by degrees. Differences in interests, worldviews, enthusiasm, knowledge – all contribute to this sense of not fitting in and an unwillingness to go with the flow.
Am I confessing a lack of love for others? Probably.
I joined a group of birders this morning. I’m much more a photographer than a birder, so that was strike one. There was only one other photographer there, but his main interest was shooting birds, so that was strike two. My hearing is pretty bad in the high frequency range, and I couldn’t clearly hear what everyone else was raving about, so strike three was inevitable. Strike four capped it all: there was no port-a-potty on the trail!
Maybe there’s a streak of timidity in my creaking bones at this stage – a wide one.
Yeah, I know – there’s no strike four in baseball.