Fear and loathing of living friendlier

I have long felt vaguely that, hey, it would sure be nice if I talked to people more, aren't people interesting, yadda yadda — to live friendlier. I find people fascinating. It seems obvious that talking to people more would be positive expected value. It seems obvious that this would increase the odds of serendipity — of making connections both parties value. Chances come up all the time.

There are so many places to do this. One would be to make a habit of talking to people in lines — my cousin does this at conventions sometimes, and it used to be normal to do this in other kinds of lines, say at a coffee shop or a grocery store. Basically any time I'm near another human being who isn't set on walking away could be an opportunity. Another would be to make a habit of being in public more, and approaching people there — for example, going to the library or a coffee shop or a park to read instead of reading at home. But I haven't done either.

Why?

I find people fascinating. Every person is their own ecosystem of pain, insanity, and virtue all their own. Every person has their own unique experience and history, their own meanings for things, their own limitations, their own desires. And oh, how complicated the desires — so many pairs that point in opposite directions! A person is a beautiful mess in motion — that's what makes people fascinating.

I find people intimidating. I'm curious about them, and yet — who am I to question them about their whole life story? Why should they even bother? Surely they are busy with more important things and not free for an impromptu interview. But more than that — I worry, what if in learning about this person I get attached to them? I have so many people already, more than I properly take care of. Can I afford to have another Person in my life? Another one to think about? Another person whose name I'll likely forget by the next time I see them — possibly a month or more in the future? Another cause for 'justified' embarrassment and shame?

Yeah, I'm worried I'd be disturbing them if I interacted. I worry I will feel good about this person yet won't be willing to support my part of a connection — that my carelessness will disappoint. I'm worried I'll forget their name and it'll be awkward. I'm worried I'll be exposed as selfish and stuck in my head.

I'm worried that other people will see the flaws I already know I have. I worry because once they see them, I'll see them and I won't be able to look away. I wouldn't be able to keep pretending I don't have those flaws, and that would sting. It would suck.

So — I have reason not to talk to people. That's why I don't.

"That's why I don't," he says. But — now that I know... couldn't I embrace that? Couldn't I do it anyway? Opposite action or cutting through, whatever you want to call it — couldn't I just... try talking to people anyway?

I could, couldn't I. Damn it! My perfect excuse!