An odd man

On my way home, I was approached at a bus stop by a man who took note of the fact that I was reading the last few pages of an Ayn Rand novel. His immediate intent was to identify my political and moral alignment with Rand’s philosophy as well as to ascertain my familiarity with her. I can’t be certain of his motive, but he was satisfied enough with my outlook as to carry a conversation with me.

He was in his forties, very articulate, finely dressed and kempt. I suspected some kind of ailment or substance abuse, as he seemed to produce beads of sweat despite the blistering cold and was suspiciously jittery. He discussed with me his recent purchase of property in the neighborhood and revealed himself an entrepreneur in several projects, a certified pilot (for which he produced a license of some kind), a teacher, and a libertarian. He spoke of travels, of plans, of odd tid-bits about flying and about the city’s zoning laws. He spoke about ethics, about academics, about libertarianism, and about healthy living.

We boarded the same bus and the exchange continued. I do not believe that I can adequately convey the depth or variety of knowledge that he demonstrated as we proceeded down the bus route. The startling fact is that I was so caught off guard by him that I forewent my stop and stayed on the bus, listening to him for an entire circuit and a half of the bus route. It must have been two to three hours.

For that entire time, he spoke incessantly; he did not pause or hesitate once, and I contributed no more than twenty words and much nodding. It was not a discussion, it was a unilateral dumping of knowledge and ideas; he could hardly speak fast enough to alleviate the buildup of thoughts and subjects as they rapidly occurred to him. I did nothing but listen. I suspect that if I hadn’t chosen to leave when I did, he would have continued for several more circuits. I only left because I was beginning to suspect ulterior motives for his carrying this exchange. Such was not expressed in any discernible fashion, but the possibility of such had come into my mind.

The fact that I stayed so long revealed something about me, because it’s strikingly uncommon for me to socialize with people. My “friends” are all intellectually, emotionally and physically distant from me, and I normally categorically refuse to socialize with or entertain the company of other people, so this behavior was unlike me. People have approached me at bus stops and at school before, and I dismiss their company rudely. What was different about this man was that he immediately convinced me that I was his intellectual inferior, or at least on par with him. That’s what captivated me, because I so very often, and in such an arrogant, stubborn and latent fashion, see the people around me as being beneath me. It captivates me, however briefly, when I find an intelligent individual with such a profoundly deep and intricate internal structure. Perhaps I yearn for that kind of company without being wholly aware of it.

There is a hidden longing in me for a connection with someone. It’s a dangerous impulse. I suspect it will take years to stifle and kill it completely, but I will succeed at that.