Last night I threw a housewarming party and a number of the attendees commented on how many interesting people were there. My whole life people have complimented me on being a magnet for interesting people, and while to some extent I’m flattered, it also reminds me of how people say Connecticut is great because it’s so close to New York. What does it say if the best thing about me is the access I afford to others?
But the truth is my whole life I’ve tried to surround myself with interesting people and that must be because I imagine what it says about me is something good. That saying about how you become the average of the five people you spend the most time with goes both ways—the five people you’re most drawn to are likely to be a reflection of who you already are. When I meet someone who knows a lot of great people, I assume they must be great themselves. On the other hand, Jeffrey Epstein was known for being a collector of interesting people too.
My therapist says that sometimes what you think you experience as attraction to someone, or even love for them, is really just a desire to be them, or to embody certain of their traits. For years I almost exclusively dated artists and writers, but secretly I think I just wanted to be one. Now that I’m writing more myself, I’ve found the draw towards other writers isn’t as strong.
And I’ve learned to notice when the pull I feel towards someone else takes that form. Do I want to befriend them, or be them? Am I sure there’s really that much of a difference?
Yours in wondering if this whole newsletter isn’t just an attempt to prove that I’m an interesting person,