Two neurotics sit on a stoop

Never assume that you know what the other person is thinking.

On a Brooklyn Stoop, in front of my apartment building, talking to my friend. It’s a beautiful day, and we’re talking but I’m not really paying attention to what’s being said.  Instead I’m looking at the guy across the street. He has massive biceps. Envy-inducing biceps. The kind of biceps you write blog posts about.

My friend doesn’t realize I’m not paying attention, looking through him, over his head and at that beacon of human anatomy.

Suddenly the conversation goes silent. An awkward pause. He finally breaks it, “stop staring at my glasses, who cares if they’re pink!”

“Huh?”

I was projecting an insecurity of my skinny arms, while he projected his own insecurity about, apparently, his pink sunglasses.

This is what happens when two neurotics sit on a stoop. This is also a reminder that we never know what the other person is thinking, that their over-reaction to whatever I said or did has absolutely nothing to do with me.