Ever seen this guy?
He’s out walking his dog at 8:15 in the a.m., and all you can think of is how together his life must be. He’s got his coat on and it suits him fine, you think, because he looks comfortable and warm. His well-fed hound is happily trotting along at the end of a nice, simple black leash. His haircut fits his head quite well.
Or that woman with the fleece vest stepping out of the bakery? She’s got her backpack and it looks Goldilocks “just right” hanging there off her shoulders—her dreads nicely contained under her headphones, her shoes scuffing the sidewalk in perfect rhythm with her surroundings as she heads off to a relaxing day of doing whatever it is she does.
And there’s the corduroy-clad old man climbing strongly from the seat of his garaged 1972 Ford Country Squire—he’s smiling and nodding at people. He’s living life, his bills are paid on time, and a hot cup of black coffee is surely in his immediate future.
How do they do it?
Well, I don’t think they do “do it.”
They fake it without knowing—playing the role of the ideal human being for the losers driving to the 7Eleven on empty, on our way to get a quart of vitamin D, a quart of 10W30, or a quart of anything cold.
But have you ever thought this, guy?
When you’re pushing around in the dark, or standing on the corner waiting for traffic to clear to so you can hit that marble ledge, or limping into work after tweaking your left ankle in an attempt to avoid stomping on your black-and-blue heel, all the dog walkers, hippie mamas, and old men are looking at you. They’re admiring your freedom. They’re appreciating your approach. They’re cherishing your contributions to our culturally rich society. They’re proud of you.
Gonz winds up for that approach we’re all proud of. Photo: Sem Rubio
Either that, or they hate you.
Both ways, you’re doing pretty good.