The other night I was talking to a friend of mine about interesting people. I no longer remember how the conversation started, but it brought to mind another discussion I had had with a gentleman who coincidentally shares a name with the man I had been speaking with last night. On that spring evening of new beginnings we were talking about attractive women, people in general, and a woman we both knew in particular. I knew my friend was fond of her. I didn't blame him for she possessed a lot of what men like; youth, exceptional beauty, and intelligence. She was a friend of mine, and I was confused by his comparison of me, to her.

It's of interest to me that in this day of instant communication we still find ways to wriggle out of relationships whose bonds have become restrictive. Last night I had to be careful when I was talking to my friend. He's told me that he admires me, if circumstances were different, maybe I could go out with him, but I don't have that freedom. During our interesting people dialogue I told him that I knew many fascinating people. Later, when I was alone again, I thought about how many interesting people I know, and how their lives have touched mine.

In the dark, I contemplated gifts, the act of gift giving, and decided that receiving gifts graciously is an art. I had questioned my long lost friend after he gave me and another woman similar gifts. His response was peculiar, and although he's lied to me about various things in the past, few things resonate like true statements. He could have given more to her than to me, and maybe others think that he should have. I did at the time. Now my opinion has changed. His present had no monetary value, words are a deeper wisdom than anything a man could buy for me in a gift shop, that was his real gift to me.

Last night's friend asked me about that gift I had received. I had to think about it for a while before I could answer him. Recently I read an article about being an interesting person. I have my own ideas about what makes people interesting. People who find me interesting are often interesting to me. Funny how that works, isn't it? I no longer have what I was given years ago, part of it I spent on him as a way to thank him for his generosity. This is ancient history now, he's acquired new interests, and I'm happy for him although I still treasure the memories I have of our conversations mainly because he was insightful which I still find interesting.

It's taken me a ridiculously long time to recognize a truth I wasn't ready for when it was delivered. I didn't believe his comment that I was interesting when I first heard it. Because I was insecure, I thought he was just being nice, because he's a nice guy. Today I can no longer deny the truth of what he said. I love meeting interesting people. I collect them, and I remember them fondly even after we've each gone our separate ways. My final gift to you, and the two men with the same name, is the wish that you will live in the most interesting of times along with the most interesting of people