Victoria, J, Jesso and entertained ourselves at lunch today with "the dating game." Here's the idea: One of us would randomly come up with a mutually known person, preferably someone also in the dining hall, to add a visual element. Making allowances for gender and sexual preference, a discussion ensues over whether or not each of us would date the selected person. Of course, it was all much more casual than I make it seem: We were all slumped back in our booth, sipping coffee and lazily pointing out potential subjects for the game.

At one point, Victoria observed that she thought she was fairly compatible with most people. I remarked, in return, that I feel just the opposite about myself: I'm generally too independent and private to have a relationship that follows the usual pattern, and not many people, I imagine, are willing to have the kind of relationship I need. I don't really like the idea of being one half of a couple, and more importantly, I need a LOT of time to myself.

A character in Chinua Achebe's Thing's Fall Apart comments that he needs a significant other to fill about 10% of his life. The other 90% of the time, he continues, he is perfectly content to be on his own. Even when I first read that book back in high school, I identified quite a bit with that quote. I've even joked with Patrick that a long-distance relationship would work well with my temperament: Most of the time, I could just go about my day-to-day life, communicating with Boy or Girl via phone, email, etc. Every few weeks, we could have a whirlwind weekend of togetherness and fun. What a perfect solution to my stubborn requirements, no?

I realize that sounds somewhat crass, and sort of contrary to what relationships are generally comprised of (togetherness, right?), but I warned you that any relationship I'm a part of is bound to be strange.

For a long time, I've thought that my strong sense of self-reliance was mostly a result of those tumultuous middle school years. I was a great big geek back then, and my classmates made quite certain that I was aware of it. I'm sure you know how that goes... But anyway, now I'm starting to think that independence is more intrinsic than not. Even when I was just a little tyke, I was absolutely content to be by myself. I'd read endlessly, write poems and stories, play with dolls, even draw floor plans for my future house. I had plenty of friends, but didn't feel compelled to play with them terribly often, and I never had imaginary friends, either. My "inner self", as it's called in social psychology, must have been complex enough to entertain me all by itself.

Honestly, that hasn't changed much. College has actually made me much more sociable, but for the most part, I think I still interact with others at a slightly detached level. There are very few people in whom I place implicit trust, and friendships with these people are the ones I value the most.

Ahh, enough with the navel-gazing. In short: I'm damned independent and I've been that way for a long time.

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