A few days ago I had a phone call with a woman I met online (but not in person yet). She was on a road trip. I asked her to call me if she got bored when driving home.
I remember during my 10,000 mile, two month road trip how invaluable it was to me when my friends would take my call and talk to me. They kept me company, made me laugh and helped me slog though some long miles when I was tired and desperately searching for a place to sleep.
To my surprise, she actually called me!
We didn’t talk about anything special. We didn’t do the “early dating” interview/interrogation process asking about exes, what we “want in a relationship”, etc.
We talked about driving with dogs. We talked about rehabbing sports injuries. We talked about electric cars and gas mileage.
We talked about her mini-vacation. We talked about what I did that day.
Forty-five minutes later when we hung up I had a big smile on my face.
The next morning I realized why.
The call was as if we knew each other well.
It was easygoing. It was light. It was chitchat about all those mundane, routine parts of life. It was comfortable.
It reminded me of the many conversations I had with my wife over the years.
After my wife died, I said to a friend, “Who am I going to talk to about all those little things I used to talk to her about?”
With kindness, he replied, “You can talk to me about them Steve.“
I was touched. But I knew that wasn’t going to happen. My friend doesn’t want to hear my boring stories about the neighbor, the weather, my shoulder injury or the umpteen other small things that I occur every day. Nor does anyone else.
Except maybe one day, when I’m in love again, these conversations will be part of the moments that bind us together.
Until that happens, I’m happy to settle for the other night’s call.