People Who Want Something From You (Brrr!)
Everybody has a few Big Sins. I have a weak spot for cookies and the line between my enthusiasm and obsessions is vague and easily crossed. Besides, I often use the “innocence” on my forehead when it’s not really necessary. Some people call that manipulation. I call it “innocence” on my forehead.
For a long time I didn’t know much about Jonny; only that he was a “real” London jazz guitarist with a band and cd’s and knowledge of music, about whom “real” journalists with knowledge of music wrote “real” articles. I assumed that he’d have better things to do than talking to me, I mean, I played Walking on sunshine in the streets without any sign of embarrassment. He held aloof anyway and I couldn’t really figure him out. Maybe he just didn’t like me. Fine. And because I didn’t interfere with his affairs while he was used to people intruding upon him immediately, he assumed that I’d probably have better things to do then. Besides, I seemed to be “too nice” and he couldn’t really figure me out. Maybe I just didn’t like him. Fine. And so the foundation for a good understanding had been laid.
It turned out that we shared our biggest Big Sin: both paranoia for People Who Want Something From You. Brrr! At a certain night with lots of music and drinks he suddenly said: “Hm, maybe I just need someone who cares for me at times. I need to be rescued sometimes I guess.” He had never said anything personal like that before, and though I thought it was kind of brave, and though I couldn’t agree with him more, my alarm bells went off immediately. “Well, I’m not going to save anybody.” His alarm bells worked well too. “I didn’t mean you, I meant in general.” Somewhere between relief and apology I mumbled: “Good; for now I’m busy enough with myself.” He checked if I was joking. “Wow, you’re a rock, aren’t you?” he then responded. “Maybe. It works for me. Anyway, I’m going now. See you later.” I didn’t want to save him. He didn’t want to be saved. Nothing could go wrong anymore.
Anyone who's paranoia for People Who Want Something From You (brrr!) in Cádiz finds a lovely permissiveness in the company of rare fellow sufferers at first. But soon it turns out that this permissiveness as a connection gives itself a hard time excisting: nothing's more confusing than such a constructive friendship between two people with a shared desire for mutual independency. And things only get worse when you become housemates in the house of dueño Harold and his girlfriend Charo. Pure confusion.
I mean: is it ok for people with a shared desire for mutual independence to share a shelf in the fridge? Can you go to the supermarket together? Or buy things for eachother? “Do you need anything from the Carrefour?” “When I need something, I’ll go myself.” “Ok.” Can you walk along to the supermarket if you both need something at the same time? Isn’t that worse than just buying it for one another? Should you split up at the sliding door otherwise? After the shopping baskets? Should you hurry up to prevent you from arriving at the register at the very same time? What if you both decided to do so? Where the Sin normally served simplicity, it now made everything hopelessly complicated. Luckily we soon came to the understanding that, for who was truly independent, and thus also from his own independence, practical reasons sometimes could be decisive factors for solving complex problems like these. The shelf in the fridge was “ours”. Brrr!
But people can get used to almost anything, even housemate-ship, and after the first few times that we payed very uneasily at the Carrefour, it didn’t take us long to become buddies. Maybe even something that we'd have called “inseparable” (wow, that even sounds worse in English than it does in Dutch :P) if we wouldn’t had been so horrified by that word. To his relief I turned out to be less nice than he thought and the other way around: while he avoided expectations because he found it hard to disappoint people, I mainly didn’t feel like getting involved with the problems that disappointed people cause. And so we smiled by the recognition in Woody’s: “I wouldn’t want to belong to any club that would have me as a member.” Some people call that fear of commitment. We didn’t like to call it that. I think that we were afraid that we’d be stuck with it then. But luckily, if you search well, there are always clubs to find that don’t want you as a member.