You meet after a few days. You two were never friends to begin with, and so, there isn’t much to talk. There is nothing except small talk about weather, some random reminiscence of school. It doesn’t even count as talking. You contemplate your decision. You decided to meet him on a whim and as you predicted, he is a normal person. Normal is boring. Millions of Instagram posts also say the same. You agree with all of them. Normal is not nice. Normal doesn’t help one realize their dreams. Normal is 9 to 5. Fuck being normal, you say in your heart, like a slogan that has been repeated zillions of times.
Predictably, your conversation steers to the ever elusive topic of being an ordinary guy and why it seems weird to you! You don’t agree with normality. You feel that the world needs more dreamers, that the regular johns have little future. You try to explain your point to him, as clearly as you can. He seems to have no opinion at all. This is also a sign of a boring person. You go on and on about your stories. How once you slept on a pavement, in an unknown town, because you were backpacking and there was no money left. How once you met this wonderful foreign woman who gave you the best weed you ever had in your life. How once you shared a hotel room with sixteen other people. You also crack jokes, but he doesn’t seem to get them. Their level is too high for his ordinary self.
He is very courteous, yet, somehow, he is getting on your nerves. You were just talking about what the government is not doing and how the recently introduced tax rates are going to negatively impact the economy and thereby, the world politics, while all he did was nod. A part of you understands that nodding is all he can do in front of you. His life is so pale compared to your bright vibrancy. He can’t keep up, you guess. But you are bored to death. You want to leave soon. It has been more than an hour sitting with this guy in this amazing restaurant, yet, it seems like an eternity. This is an eatery only a few know of. He has no idea how hard it is to get a reservation here. Only the crème de la crème of society are allowed. You were able to arrange this meet up in this swanky, hidden gem because of your immense clout in the club and restaurant scene of the city. He doesn’t seem to appreciate it. How very ignorant of this fool!
Eventually, you ask him how he is doing. He seems content, happy. You are not. How can normal be content? How can boring be happy? This was a bad idea. You were going to show him what he is missing in his life. It was supposed to be a grand clash. Mundane versus Wanderlust. Why is it not so? Something is remiss, something seems wrong. You up and leave abruptly. This is not working out. He tries to ask the reason but you ignore him. Your parting words are, “The owner knows me. The bill will be taken care of. Eat and drink to your heart’s content. Get some packaged for the family.” Then you leave, without even an obligatory goodbye.