Why Are People So Odd?

Maybe I have a face that compels people to confide in me, although it is usually when my boyfriend is with me so perhaps it is he, and not I, who bring this out in people. Part of the strangeness of it is that these revelations usually come from people you would not normally think of as needing someone to talk to about such things. These people doing the confiding are generally fairly well off financially and have nice, comfortable homes and no financial worries in their lives. They are looking forward to very comfy retirements and will never have to worry about whether or not they can pay a particular bill or if they can afford their groceries. Many of them pay in spades for their security by having developed little rituals of "saving money" that amount to pennies over the years, as if a penny were too important to lose, while they win and lose the "pounds" on a regular basis and with little or no concern as to the fact that a small, third-world nation could have existed for a month on what was just squandered and, at the same time, they count the squares of toilet paper they are using to make sure they do not use too much of it at any one time.

They buy and sell their riches but begrudge themselves the merest luxury of really tasty food, they invest in jewelry or works of art, pamper themselves with lovely homes, etc. but then turn around and buy the cheapest possible paper towels, tissue, soaps, or bread all with the obvious intent of having saved themselves "real" money. Maybe, all told over a ten year period, such habits will have saved a few hundred dollars but thousands and thousands were spent or lost elsewhere by these same people. It is a curious mindset and it is one I cannot really connect with easily. This does not mean any of these people are lazy or have never worked hard to earn these pleasures for themselves it is just that, somewhere along the way, I think they became superstitious about their wealth and pay a strange price as a self-imposed condition of being allowed to enjoy what they have accumulated. Sorry, but I will always buy the brand of paper towels that actually absorbs liquid instead of merely pushing it around. I prefer the brand of toilet paper I feel is sturdy enough to "do the job" without too much compromise of any of my more delicate sensibilities. I will buy the bread that I think tastes the best and is best for me and I will not miss a wealth of jewels because I never craved owning many of them and likely would choose to spend that much money on a home or on people I loved rather than on baubles to show off - although they are very nice things to have. Such is the life of the financially comfortable of my acquaintance, all of whom are very nice people and caring, loving friends, it's just that they have this really odd way of relishing their many advantages. Perhaps they feel they owe this particular type of penance for some reason, that it makes them worthier somehow, although to my knowledge no one, at least in my hearing, has ever even suggested they do not deserve what they and their families have worked so hard to achieve for themselves. Maybe, for the holidays, I will put together several care packages for these poor unfortunates. The packages will include all of the everyday luxuries that my friends feel so compelled to deny themselves and, on the top of my list, will be a really good vintage of toilet paper - the kind that stays in one piece, tears properly at the perforations, and does not excoriate skin in the using of it.

All of this observation of others makes me wonder what some of my own peculiarities may be, as I am hardly the one to pass judgement on that since I cannot tell what is odd about myself as it probably seems perfectly normal to me, whatever it is. I'm not too sure I really want to invite such comments but it seems only fair after my earlier diatribe. I know I wiggle my nose when it itches and I worry incessantly at times until I have checked in with everybody and found them safe and as well as can be expected. Those things I know about, it is the ones I am blissfully unaware of that the thought of having them revealed scares the heck out of me. I tremble in an unpleasant anticipation of the moment these oddities in my character are pointed out. Oh well, I suppose I will survive the critique although I may take some of my more treasured peculiarities underground so they do not draw any further attention.

(Revised March 17,2007 by the author.)