poka bean

wedding rings

I was in a coffee shop today and was enjoying some good people watching while the teenage barista was steaming and frothing my latte. A middle-aged, awkward, disheveled man wearing a sloppy outfit came in while I was waiting and caught my attention. He was not self-assured, not graceful, not quite right...the kind of guy who looks odd enough to make you feel really uncomfortable for him. The kind of guy who is just off enough that you feel embarrassment for him even though he is completely oblivious to all the things he should theoretically be embarrassed about. I would call him "unapologetically dorky" but I don't think that's accurate. He was so clueless about his dorkiness that he didn't even know to be unapologetic about it.

He stepped away from the counter holding a muffin on a very small plate. The coffee shop was crowded but he managed to find a chair for himself. With no table to set his food on, he pulled his knees together sort of femininely, set the tiny plate on his lap, and proceeded to awkwardly nibble on his muffin.

Instantly, without thinking about it or consciously intending to do so, I realized my eyes were searching wildly for a good look at his left hand in hopes I'd find him wearing a wedding ring. Now, this is a pretty normal learned behavior of most single women and a habit of curiosity that's hard to break even once you're happily dating (as I am) and don't care about a stranger's marital status. But on this particular occasion, my instinctive search for a ring on this guy's hand had nothing to do with interest about his availability. On this occasion, I looked for a ring out of pure, desperate hope that there is someone out there who loves him. Someone who needs him. Someone who is as oblivious to his dorkiness as he is and who adores him and greets him affectionately at the end of a long day.

But even more than that, I looked for a ring out of the selfish hope that I wouldn't have to feel sorry for him or worry for him. Because as long as someone else out there loves and cares about him, I wouldn't have to. As long as someone else is a friend to him, I wouldn't have to feel guilty that I don't want to be one. I wouldn't have to suck up my discomfort and try to love him myself. If he's married, then he has at least one person in his life. If he's married, I'm off the hook.

Most of the time I think I really have it together. I think I'm good to people and caring and that I live by noble principles. And then the awkward guy in the coffee shop happens and the ugliness of my human nature slaps me in the face.

Today I went back to square one.

Posted by Poka Bean at 11:04 AM