The Comfort of Strangers

In a grocery store the lady in the line in front of you sets on the belt your favorite yogurt. You innocently say, “Oh, isn’t that the best yogurt you ever tasted?” She turns around looks you in dead in the eye and says, “Why yes! It’s the only thing I can eat for breakfast! My dick of a husband keeps telling me my ass is getting fat. He used to like my ass! He used to call it ‘bootylicious’. We used to have sex night and day and he rode my ass all the way to Texas and back!” She laughs her hardly laugh.You have a smile plastered to your face thinking to yourself “What the fuck did I just get myself into. Why did I have to comment on that yogurt!” Why do we tell strangers things we usually reserved for-if not our loved ones-our shrinks. Sometimes we say nothing at all, and the person washing their hands next us tells us about their bowel movement problems. Do we tell strangers things because we will never see them again? Do we confide in strangers because it’s easier than confiding in people we know? I can’t think of the last time I did this. But I also look forward to the next time I seek comfort in a stranger.  

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