It’s all the same, in every town. So much of this country has turned into one big sameness. The hotels are chains, built of corporate Lego. The restaurants and the coffee shops and the stores in the malls. They’re all the same, everywhere. We’ve never been farther apart in our politics-by-geography. The two solitudes of America have never fallen into such sharp relief. Yet at the same time, we’ve never been so alike, in the places we frequent, the things we do and the things we buy, in every place across the land.

I was in a chain restaurant/bar tonight. It was pretty much the same as each of the others the company owns from San Diego to Boston, from Miami to Seattle. I met a woman. Scratch that. I approached a woman. She was sitting at the bar and crying, and that’s why I spoke to her. A woman like that attracts a man like me.

I didn’t even bother with preliminaries. Just touched her arm and said hello. Smiled handsomely. Smiled in that way. That way that says I’m trying to be sincere. The corners of my eyes crinkling, the set of my jaw broadcasting safety and sympathy. It worked like a charm.

“What happened?” I asked, gently. She answered immediately and without hesitation.

So many doubts and fears. Questions she had about big things and little things. All the things that matter. Some things that scared her to the bone. Was she a good mother to her two children, a girl and a boy? Did she love her husband, the man with whom she’d shared the last decade? Did he love her? Was this… all there was?

I don’t know why, exactly, this kind of situation turns me on. It switches me on. I can feel the electricity, the neurons firing faster. All my faculties are recruited, and I focus like a laser. I listen, and then I start to talk. Questions and insinuations flow golden and sweet from my lips.

I’m very good. I really am, and you’d be impressed. I know a vulnerable woman when I see her. I build trust. I reflect back exactly what she needs. I get close, and then I get closer. I work on the intimacy carefully… carefully maneuvering closer to the heart. Nobody tickles these keys better than I do. I am masterful, and oh so proud of it. I’m very good.

She touched my face with a soft hand. It’s not the first time that’s happened. She kissed my cheek. It’s not the first time that’s happened. She put her arms around me and hugged me. It’s not the first time that’s happened. But each time it’s magical.

She went “home” to her Lego hotel, and I went “home” to my Lego hotel. She felt better. She felt better about a good life peppered with problems and uncertainties and questions. She felt better about a good man and a beautiful little girl and boy, whose photos graced her phone. She felt better, and I felt fantastic.

Let’s not fool ourselves. I’m not a good person all the time. There are things on my ledger that will cost me dear, when the Man comes around.

Tonight, though. Tonight, it wasn’t about me. Tonight, it was about someone else’s hurt – a hurt that I could ease with words and truth. Tonight, I did a good thing that I knew how to do very well. Tonight I used all my powers and skills in a way that would make the angels smile and nod. Tonight, I wasn’t bad. Tonight I helped a good woman see what was before her. Tonight, one more time, I’m proud of me.

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