Every so often, I eat grapefruit, maybe just a bite or two, so I can remind myself that I do not like the taste. The rest of the time, when the memory of bitterness is not fresh in my mind, I think only of the consummate pleasure with which so many other people eat their grapefruit, and I am again intrigued.
I suppose that the same principal applies to glow-paint dance parties.
After about ten minutes of an awkwardness I thought I had left behind in high school, I knew I had to leave. I ended up spending three hours talking and catching up with a long-neglected friend. Somehow, that conversational marathon really turned my mood around for the better. I think my preferred form of social interaction involves an interesting human being and a candid space. All through my life, this has been the pattern. Over bowls of pho, on long schoolbus rides home, on mountaintops under a starry skies, in deserts under full moons, through computer screens, on hills looking over the City skyline, and in bedrooms I've gotten the chance to talk, honestly and earnestly.
On these occasions, the talk is so satisfying that afterwards, for a little bit, everything else feels completely insubstantial in comparison. These were some of the best moments.
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