never trust a witness.
Meeting someone at a bar is a lot like going on a blind date. You have the urge to say, “I’ll be the one with the rose,” but then you remember you aren’t a contestent on The Bachelor. In blind dates at least there’s some prior knowledge of the physicals, normally, someone will say, “He has hair. Kinda brown. He wears t-shirts. Sometimes white ones.” But when the meeting is platonic, there’s no talk of hair, in friendship looks aren’t supposed to matter although this is not true and you know it.
It seems you can see people most clearly right before you meet them. As soon as they start talking you get blinded by their personality, and how much they seem to like you, and you’ve lost all objectivity.
People always seem to know when someone is waiting for them. Since moving to San Francisco 8 months ago, I’ve met for drinks with a lot of people I had never seen before, but they look right at you as soon as they walk into the room, although they’re not sure yet, and someone says a name, and the other nods, and there’s a certain relief for a job well done, and then you drink a beer.
I wonder what they think when they see me. One time my dad and I caught a glimpse of ourselves in a mirror, and he said, “That’s not really what you look like.” What if the reflections are wrong? In truth I’m not looking like much these days, just rolling out of the house late with messy hair looking like a person happy to be whiling away the hours with someone they think they might not deserve.