Desperation and Strangers

Everyone's had that moment where they go up to a complete stranger and ask them a question. It's always at least mildly awkward, for a moment, on someone's part as you approach them, but most often the question is benign. "When's the bus?", "What time is it?" or "Do you have a smoke?". Every now and then, however, one is forced to ask a question that has far more depth to it. How desperate must one be to ask a complete stranger a question about something they most likely have no association with?

Today, while out to see a movie, I asked someone if the seat next to them was free. I felt a bit awkward because she looked like she was saving seats on both sides of her. Well, she wasn't so I sat down and there was some minor chit-chat, and then I sat there comfortably silent and waiting for this special screening of Pulp Fiction to start. Shortly thereafter she turned to me with a distressed look in her eyes and a quiver in her voice as she spoke, obviously feeling very awkward.

"Can I ask for your opinion?" she said, obviously uncomfortable. I faltered for a quick response, feeling awkward myself with the sudden outburst and wondering if I had done something to instigate this outburst or if it were simply an overwhelming need to vocalize an inner torment. She saw my reticence and said "Never Mind", etc.

"No, no. Go ahead." I said, uncertain of where things were going. She communicated to me a story of a man she had met, a man who she had been working out with and had set an appointment to meet for lunch and this very film... except he never showed up and never told her that he wouldn't be, even though he was online mere hours earlier.

"Does this mean he's dumping me?" she asked, rage and hurt quivering in her voice.

My silence said everything to her. I tried to posit the possibility that something happened to him, but what is the probability of him actually getting hit by a car on the way there? Well, statistically high, I've been hit by a car before... but not exactly likely. The film passed in silence between us and I left without saying anything to her, a mildly uncomfortable set of moments.

It made me wonder, how much must something eat at you to cause you to open up so much to someone you've only just met? I've done it before, I know where my limit is before I just need somebody to listen, to validate that I'm not the crazy one in a scenario... but how many people go by feeling tormented inside without ever asking for help? And, would we actually be happier if more people spilled their stories to strangers, or would we grow tired of being constantly burdened with other people's problems?