By Anton Martin Smith antonsmithwrites@gmail.com
You are talking to someone you know.
Another person is nearby.
They try to introduce you this ‘new third party’ – let’s call him ‘Wild Bill’.
I’ll come back to Wild Bill in a second.
Now a partially half-well-adjusted-adult generally does this as an introduce-ee:
They muster at least a quarter smile, aim it towards those they are introduced to, & and emit at least a passably pseudo-cheery hello.
But No No No! – this is not always so!
In small towns throughout the cosmos, namely Earth – this skill is often missed.
Yes, our smalltown Wild Bill – instead of acting like a partially well-adjusted adult who knows how to say hello –
Decides he would rather look like he is at a funeral,
Looking at you cadaverously, without an once of good humour,
As frozen as an iceberg, while his tiny mind ticks over.
Wild Bill is trying to figure out whether you are worth talking to,
He’s hoping he might have known you for a minimum thirty years, but has temporarily forgotten.
Because Wild Bill knows that dealing with an entirely new person from scratch,
The ‘blank page’, if you will –
Is a bridge too far for him – in fact it is far far far far far too far for him,
& thats still putting it lightly.
For his fragile quadruple bubble wrapped ego can’t handle it.
For hidden deep in the recesses of his psyche – he knows if he does this – his cover will be blown.
He’d rather treat the ‘blank pages’ of the world poorly & so come across like a total hick,
Than risk actually being seen.
It is simply the price Wild Bill is more than willing to pay –
For he can stay comfortably unseen, invisible, without ever experiencing any stressful growth pangs,
& who cares what some total stranger thinks of me anyway, he tells himself.
Of course, I’m not hating on the Wild Bills of the world –
As it is always a fool’s errand,
To judge those who know not why they do as they do.
Especially as we are all like Wild Bill in some ways, or at least some stage in our lives.
But in saying that,
It’s bloody annoying when it happens to you all the same.
Unfortunately there is no polite antidote to it, other than to steadfastly not get sucked into their abyss.
This of course takes great practice.
One day I will rudely confront Wild Bill like this:
“Bill, Bill, Wild Bill – oh when will you learn to say hello properly for god’s sake?”
To which Wild Bill will probably reply stony faced:
“Not in this lifetime stranger”.
And then if I’m really lucky – a mutual disarming chuckle & will break out across these dusty windswept savannahs –
Finally allowing me & ‘The Wild Bills’ of this Earth to see eye to eye.
It’s a rose-tinted romantic hope, & as such, I won’t hold my breath.
So, all that is left to think to yourself about Wild Bill, is this:
Wild Bill – may one day your wounded soul find restful peace, with all your undue fears long gone.
You are now a-hoppin’-skippin’ & a- jumpin’ through the clouds with unremittent gay abandonment,
Greeting every otherworldly evanescent stranger you meet along the way like a manically happy labrador,
Who has just now seen his long-term owner & best friend, whom he had mistakenly thought was long dead.
God speed to you Wild Bill.
Anton Martin Smith Writer 