Conversations

I had an interesting conversation with a relative stranger on Saturday night.

We were in a bar called The Library, ironically named in a way that only a Malaysian establishment could be named, with nary a book in sight, celebrating a friend’s 30th birthday. Sitting on the upper floor of the bar, inconveniently nestled by a speaker blasting music from the live band downstairs, I sat at an assembled long table of old friends and associates, nursing a drink while trying to sustain some small talk that would last beyond the usual short-lived topics of work and when was the last time I went partying, of which I could only offer, busy and it’s been so long, I can't remember.

We were all old friends in the sense that we’d known each other since we were little knobby-kneed snotty-nosed kids in school, with similar rootless upbringings and misplaced foreign accents, and the relative stranger was relative in strangeness in the sense that I had fleeting memories of a child-sized version of him from when we were younger. But (fingers crossed) you aren’t the same person you were in 3rd Grade that you are today.

A conversation was struck on the basis of proximity, as you naturally move from speaking to the person on your left side to the person on your right side. I don’t know if it was the drink and empty stomach, but we went from talking about music and concerts (Does The National sound like Arcade Fire? I couldn’t say) to writing (my unfulfilled literary dreams to his current pursuits) to politics (my ignorance and apathy towards local politics to his keen interest and fight to change the status quo) to travel (past travels to future plans), to my mother’s illness, and more regrettably, my recently failed relationship.

I think back to the conversation and have to contain the urge to kick myself for opening up and conversing on such a personal level to a stranger, especially when I can’t even bring myself to write down my own failings in a journal.

But at the same time, it felt good to speak uninhibitedly about my thoughts, about my regrets and fears, my secret ambitions, and to feel challenged in opinion, but really keenly listened to. But mostly, to not really care about what this person on the receiving end was thinking because even if he was judging me, I didn’t know him well enough to really care.

That’s the thing with conversing with strangers – it’s that amiable curiosity that ignites interesting conversation – even if it’s short lived.

After having been in a relationship for so long, I think you become so used to channeling your efforts into one person, that you tend to stop making an effort with new people; that’s when it becomes so easy to forget how to have real meaningful conversations with strangers, and in my case, having managed to start the conversation, where to draw the line.

Towards the end of end of our tête-à-tête, feeling a bit stark in my emotional nakedness, I tried to steer the conversation back to lightheartedness. I was also slightly perturbed with my conversational partner’s lack of awareness for personal space, as I found myself having to recline further and further into my chair. I had a feeling he was one of those people who mistakenly expresses empathy and intensity with physical proximity. And as all conversations approach a natural end, so did ours.

It’s not easy starting all over again. But I think I’m ready to start the conversation.