I See You
It was a warm and lovely moment the two of us shared and it was over as soon as it began
I was getting to the end of my workday when my supervisor asked if I’d like some overtime before going home. Like most businesses these days, things have been scarce, so I jumped on whatever I could get. My mission was to bring a full trailer to Amazon, drop it off, and then pick up another full trailer at a medical supply factory in the next town.
The medical supply factory was one of the coldest and most inhuman places you could imagine—one of those facilities where no one had an identity. Between the OSHA safety vests and harnesses and personal protective equipment, it seemed designed to strip men and women, old and young, of all their humanness. I saw a weary young lady walking toward the exit and underneath all of her gear, I could see what these companies tried so hard to disguise. I could see a tired, harried, overwrought girl made to work far too hard and far too long just to pay her bills and stay afloat. It’s a look you see often in this part of town.
I approached the door to go out to my truck and instead of simply extending an arm to keep the door open, I gallantly stood outside and held the door open as a way to honor the woman that she was. Even though “the belle of the ball” was the last thing she saw herself as, she looked up at me and smiled and I could feel the warmth and appreciation emanate off her in waves. It was a moment where she acknowledged what I was trying to convey to her and she was very receptive.
“I see you.”
It was a warm and lovely moment the two of us shared and it was over as soon as it began but it felt as important as respiration and nourishment. It was the polar opposite of all of this chatter that goes on in these spaces on social media where men and women are showing each other the most private parts of their bodies and yet, not coming even a tenth as close to the intimacy that me and this stranger shared in that moment.
You hear so often about how we have traded those integral moments for the pleasure of staring at a 3 inch by 5 inch piece of glass, but perhaps we’re just not listening. That moment at that warehouse reminded me of that scene in 1984 where Winston and Julia snuck off to make love. Everything around them was designed specifically to extract their humanity and leave them as nothing more than factors in a great equation, but the human spirit and need for connection snuck under the gate for that one moment. Humanity prevailed.
“I see you.”
Not some filtered and airbrushed representation of what you might look like in the perfect make-up, with the perfect lighting, with the perfect amount of cleavage but dirty, tired, exhausted and at the end of your day and, likely, the end of your rope. The antithesis of these vain images on Twitter and the hundreds of fawning, horny men all trying to gain favor, lost in a litany of endless tongue wagging wolves “looking good, babe,” and “I just want one night with you,” and on and on and on. All of it, vapid. All of it, ridiculous.
I needed that moment as much as I knew she needed it. I needed it to remind me that life, real life, only exists off of Twitter, Instagram and Facebook. The truest meaning of life exists in the breakrooms, in the parking lots, at the outdoor markets and main streets. And I say this as much for myself as I say it to you. I don’t have any true connections that exist in three dimensions anymore. Sure, I know people in the outside world and, yes, they hold me in a certain regard but when it really comes down to it, there’s no one to take a walk with, to talk to, to hug and feel connection to.
Ironically, the closest relationships I have in my life all exist online, also. My friends I’ve made through Elephant, through Substack, through Instagram and Facebook. These are the people who say the things to me that make me feel whole. And perhaps it’s too much to ask that I have it both ways. Perhaps I should feel fortunate that I have what I have. There are some truly beautiful people who tell me they love me and I cherish these people–Kerri, Mellara, Chelsea Leigh, Pavita, Isabella, Kat, Daniela, Jann, Margaret. I couldn’t live without this affection.
But out in the world, where things like what happened last night happen, it reminds me of what life once was. When the love I craved and needed to survive existed in true color and in three dimensions. It left me with a bittersweet and wistful feeling.
However, on a more positive note: I woke up this morning to find that I had received a deposit in my account from an annual subscriber. I was very curious to see who that could possibly be. I hadn’t received any notification from Substack that I had anyone new. Well, I was shocked to find it was a renewal. I have been doing this column for an entire year.
Happy Anniversary, everyone.
I see you.
When I started reading this, I felt it is the best piece you've ever written. Perhaps because it resonated with me, deeply. I have been thinking along these lines lately. And, when I saw my name, my smile grew so wide I am certain I created a new wrinkle, a good wrinkle. Thank you, Billy, and congratulations on one year.