Last summer we attended a barbecue at a friend’s house in Westboro, Ottawa’s hip neighbourhood filled with yoga studios, coffee houses and Montessori daycares. It was a stunningly gorgeous blue sky day, the spread of food looked amazing, and our kids happily wandered off in search of other kids to play with.
I’m generally happy to be at a gathering of strangers. I look forward to the treasure hunt excitement of discovering new stories and ideas, of lucking into the flawless beauty of a conversation that quickly runs true, deep and human. It is at once a stroke of serendipity and an exercise in will and release.
I moved about, nibbling and drinking, wandering in and out of conversational groups, searching for some magic. “It’s a lovely street,” I commented admiringly to one woman standing alone. “I think the old trees are the most amazing part of this neighbourhood.”
“Well,” she replied. “The trees create a more suburban feel. Where we live has a much more urban feel to it.” Oh, and whereabouts in the city did she live? The market? LeBreton Flats? Downtown? Apparently, a stones throw around the corner, in a walk-up on the main street devoid of such (obvious? populist?) green leafiness.
Her comment left me speechless. Disdain for the trees? Really? A throw-down to see who’s the most urban of the urban-with-kids set? It dovetailed nicely with the “I’m more vegetarian than you” and the “These may appear to be plastic cups, but you can actually wash them out and reuse them so I’m not a bad person” conversations that also popped up.
But why, a year later, does this particular comment still stick in my craw?
I think I finally grasped the insidious effects of competition between friends, acquaintances and total strangers.
It is the nail in the coffin of intimacy. It strikes dead the potential for amity, trust and love. Competition distances, rendering friendships transactional, measured in defined and tallied benefits between parties. It eradicates the simple, priceless pleasure of taking comfort in someone else’s company as yourself and nothing more.
And it blocks us from ever finding the magic that we so badly need.