Tuesday, May 14, 2024

Microstory 2147: That I Hate You

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I’ve lived here for—how long have I lived here for—I don’t remember, and I don’t want to look it up. As usual, I didn’t bother meeting my neighbors. This isn’t ever some kind of intentional effort on my part, where I avoid them like the plague. It’s not that I think that we won’t get along, though let’s be fair, we probably won’t. It’s just that I don’t give it much thought. The first day when I move into a new place, I’m busy doing that. The second day is about figuring out how my daily behavior is going to change. The next few days are about implementing those changes, seeing what works, and rethinking accordingly. After that, I’ve established a routine, and while I can alter it as necessary, I pretty much stick to what I know until it becomes too inconvenient, and I have to come up with new solutions. Other people don’t factor into it unless they were a part of it before, such as my family back on my homeworld. Meeting people is not something that I’ve ever been interested in. I’ve tried to ask a number of neurotypicals what the point of getting to know new friends is. Not one of them has been able to explain why exactly they like it. They act like it’s a biological imperative, like eating, or propagating the species. And it’s true to some degree. Evolution favors life-preserving traits, and humans have survived through tribal collaboration. But that’s not really what that is, is it? The only tribe that I need is currently around five billion strong. If I need a coat, I know where to go. If I need help getting a door open because my hands are full, someone nearby will likely oblige. I wouldn’t expect to have to foster some strong relationship with that person. In fact, if true connection is something that they required before helping in such a small way, we would all probably consider them not that great of a person. I’m not going to become friends with people just so they’ll open the door for me, because I don’t want to be associated with someone who won’t open the door for a stranger. My point is that whatever joy you experience by getting to know others is not inherent to your survival, which means that it is not necessarily universal. To be sure, it’s not even true for me, and I’m sure there are plenty of others. It doesn’t make us misanthropic hermits either. I think it’s perfectly reasonable for a beekeeper to only want to be friends with other beekeepers, for instance. Of course, this kind of mentality has the potential to lead to prejudice and otherism, but it doesn’t have to. I’m not a beekeeper, I’m just me. My interests don’t align well with others. For one, the things that I used to love don’t exist in this universe, such as Stargate. But also, loving Stargate has never been my entire identity, and I didn’t find myself enjoying being in the company of other fans, for reasons that I won’t get into. I think that I just don’t want to be around people who are like me any more than I want to be around people who aren’t like me. Again, it’s not that I hate you; it’s just that that’s not how I choose to live in the world. Anyway, my neighbor suddenly invited me to dinner tonight, so we’ll see how that goes.

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