I'm the Kind of Girl....

That sees people and makes up a big fat story in my mind about them and their lives.

I can really get myself worked up over it. I really can.

For instance, if I see a man sitting alone at a restaurant eating...Forget it. I know for a fact, that he is a widower and only has cereal and cup-o-noodles to eat at home.

A home that is now only a house.
A lonely, dark house. Devoid of humanity. And laughter.

I am sure of it.

The "hub" basically has to keep me restrained so I don't go ask him to join us. So instead, I keep sneaking glances and smiling as big and as nurturing as I can everytime I catch his eye. Just so he knows he's not alone in this world.

Meanwhile, he probably thinks I have the hots for him. Or am just some maniacal eternal smiler. He's probably sitting there thinking....ooohhh that poor bastard. His wife thinks she sweet. He'd probably love to come to my house and have a bowl of cereal and ditch the kook.

Or maybe not?
Who knows?

This is not a new way of thinking for me. I have always made up vignettes about people....Or rather, been very interested in their stories or lives.

Even as a child.

If we would pass someone being pulled over by a cop, I had to know ALLLL of the details....why are they being pulled over? Do you think they feel bad? Do yout hink they have kids? What do you think they are having for dinner? I wonder if they have that alot? I wonder where she got that recipe? Do you think she'll tell her family she got pulled over during dinner? Do you think her husband will be mad? Will she be mad back?

And on.

And on.

I am quite certain I drove my mother absolutely NUTS-O.

But, quite frankly, I am of the belief that curiosity is not what killed the cat! Rather, it's what brought the cat back to life.

Soooome people might think I am nosey, but, really, I am just interested.

Curious.

And, ok, NOW AND THEN, a teeeeeny tiiiiny bit nosey.

BUT! I am a writer.
It is my job to uncover the inside story.

Much like Mark McGrath on EXTRA... And, yes, he did used to be in Sugar Ray. The band. Not the boxer.

Yesterday I had a big case of the making up of stories.... I have pin-pointed these episodes to times when either I hear a nice depressing song on the radio or when I am not on my cell phone and actually am left with my thoughts....

WHICH, I try not to do very often.
For obvious reason.

You should hear my thoughts....

Dude.

So I'm driving home from the grocery store and that new Journey song comes on. I mean...that right there just about kills you.

Any Journey song really.

I'm driving by the bike path and I see this ....well....QUITE HEFTY fellow riding a tiny-ish bike.

It just killed me. I almost broke into tears.

I don't know why....I guess just thinking about him going on a bike ride on a nice day and all.

All by himself..... Maybe he's trying to lose weight and he loves to ride a bike? Or he thought he'd try something new? Someone in his family probably just died and he's trying to take his mind off of it OR riding in their honor....?

Or maybe, for once, he found this girl that loved him and they were totally in love...or so he thought....and she just ditched him...And he's trying to swallow that lump in his throat while biking and hoping the wind in his face will silence the break in his heart?

I don't know. But when I think of that guy pedalling that bike on the path by the river, it just chokes me up.

And really, for all I know, he could be a pedophile fishing for kids on trikes.

Really. He totally could be.

But in my mind, he'll always be that lonely guy with nothing more to do on a Sunday than ride a bike.

All by his chubby lonesome.

I just might have to invite him for Thanksgiving.