I know I’m not the kind of person who should sit next to strangers.
“Can I join you?” I recently asked a woman who was sitting by herself in a row of seats as she waited for an event to start.
“Sure,” she said.
Not a fair question. How else could she respond? With four empty seats beside her, she couldn’t exactly say no. But it’s the Do-Gooder in me. I always have to find the person who looks most alone in a crowd and try to be friendly. Otherwise, I know I would be the lone, shy person sitting by myself with four empty seats beside me.
Nibbling on hors d’oeuvres on a small paper plate, I tried to make small talk with her as we waited for the speaker to be introduced. We didn’t get too far in our conversation before I squirted raw tomato on her pants and sweater.
Yes, I’m the kind of person who bites into a small tomato and squirts the person next to me. Cherry and grape tomatoes should be banned from my public diet. Or I should learn to pop the whole little red fruit in my mouth and chew it before I can assault anyone with it. Unfortunately, I’m a habitual tomato biter and it’s not the first time I have made people next to me suffer. In fact, I have been known to hit seatmates squarely in the eye.
“Oh my gosh, did I just do that?” I stupidly said as I tried to wipe tomato seed goop off her pants.
“There is some here, too,” she said calmly, indicating another spot of goop on her sweater.
I felt embarrassed. As I wiped goop off her shoulder, I considered the poor woman probably didn’t want me to remain within ten feet for the rest of the evening.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m a mother. I’m used to it.”
Ah, motherhood to the rescue. Motherhood – the great social equalizer that bonds all procreating females on the planet.
I confessed to her that when my boys were little, no matter how hard I tried to get out of the house unscathed, I would inevitably find fresh baby barf on my shoulder as soon as I got to work.
She laughed, and we started talking about the unexpected hardships, challenges and disappointments of life, motherhood and working for a living. In ten or fifteen minutes, we clicked and connected like only honest, vulnerable women can and when the event ended, we hugged like only genuine, appreciative human beings can.
Thank you, sweet lady, for overlooking the tomato goop I squirted on you, to make me feel like maybe I AM the kind of person who can sit next to strangers after all.
But that’s it. I’m done with tomatoes.
***
photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/46723181@N02/6113139176″>Kirschtomaten Cherry Tomato</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/”>(license)</a>