Needy

I remember one time in science class at school, doing something with magnets. Being a resoundingly mediocre student, I didn’t understand what the point to the class was, but was fascinated by how the magnets would repel each other if their same poles were aligned. Moving one magnet closer to the other, would force the other to slide quickly out of range.

Perhaps it was the joint I had smoked in the toilets before class, but to me this was a simple yet perfect metaphor for human relationships, and even now, years later, the image of that sliding magnet often springs to mind.

(I just re-read that paragraph. Am now quite sure the joint was to blame. Therefore, should probably keep my later cocaine-fuelled insights on ants to myself.)

When I hear the Barbra Striesand song, "People who need people, are the luckiest people in the world," I feel a sharp surge in irritation. Not just for the cheap, hideous sentimentality of the lyrics, but for what I see as being a mental illness sublimated in song.

The Tedious Acquaintance had rung, and we had a brief conversation (I am not one much for telephone conversations, so with me they are inevitably brief). However, every time I attempted to wrap the call up, she would blurt out some disjointed question, or half-witted and dull anecdote.

"I really must go," I said finally.
"Oh, please don't," she said in a small voice, "please stay and talk to me. I'm lonely."
My brain veritably fizzed in my head. I could see the magnet sliding across the table.
"Only stupid people get lonely," I hissed, "if you are capable of holding a thought in your head, there is no excuse for loneliness. There should be plenty in there to keep you busy."
"Don’t you ever get lonely?"
“Never. Go take some drugs, or read a book, or something.”

Of all the unappealing traits that my fellow humans can manifest – neediness is the worst, an utterly selfish act. Who would really want company given for the sake of guilt or obligation? Is company grudgingly granted really better than none at all?