He opened the door to a sparsely furnished one bedroom apartment. It was clean, tidy and smelt good, but it was obvious -- this was a guy of very modest means. I was raised dirt poor and material things have never been an issue with me (owning two pairs of shoes, and eating three meals a day is "living rich" as far as I am concerned), but I was bothered, nonetheless.

This guy was like 40-something -- if he hadn't made it at this point in his life, he wasn't going to make it at all. I would have been happy to share everything I had with him, but I had learned my lesson falling in love with guys because life had dealt them a raw deal -- and I was the one person in the world who would make "everything alright". I wasn't up for another love-rescue-mission. Not again. NO!

So after the cup of hot chocolate he made for me, I ended it. He patiently listened to the usual "It's not you... it's me" mambo jumbo, and when I was done, he got up and walked to the stereo. Amanda Marshall's beautiful voice filled the room...

You walk up to me and say
Feel like I know you baby
And then take a sip of your cherry coke
Now who drinks a cherry coke
Maybe you're nervous
I see that bead of sweat dancing on your cheek
Your words are like cheap champagne
I get the point but it's much too sweet
I'm so tired of the dance
This carousel of superficial conversation
Gets me nowhere

So you can see my bra underneath my shirt
Watch the wind underneath my skirt
But that ain't the picture, it's just a part
Everybody's got a story that could break your heart
See my eyes, don't see what I see
Touch my tongue, don't know what tastes good to me
It's the human condition that keeps us apart
Everybody's got a story that could break your heart
Yeah, everybody's got a story that could break your heart
Na na na na na na

Now who could read the mind of the red-headed girl next door
Or the taxi driver who just dropped you off
Or the classmate that you ignore
Don't assume everything on the surface is what you see
Cause that classmate just lost her mother
And that taxi driver is got a PhD
I'm so tired of the fear
That weighs us down with wrong assumptions
Of broken hearts, a natural function

So dig deep
Deeper than the image that you see
Dig deep
Lift the veil and let your true self breathe
Dig deep
Show the world the beauty underneath

He had his back turned towards me the whole time. Amanda Marshall's voice faded away, he turned off the stereo, turned around and said. "I'll walk you to the car".

Feeling like a shallow, small-minded, one-dimensional excuse of a human being, I got up and carried my pathetic bones out of the door. He opened the car door for me. We both stood there looking into each other's eyes, and at that moment I knew that if I stood there any longer, I might change my mind (and make a complete fool of myself with another love-rescue-mission). So I got into the car. He closed the door, leaned on the car window, looked me in the eyes and said, "I thought you were different."

All the way home and into the night, I couldn't get my mind off those words, "Everybody's got a story that could break your heart". I woke up in the morning, and Amanda Marshall was still singing in my head.

I called him and arranged for us to meet at the park. He was sitting on the park bench when I got there. He didn't have that sad-puppy look of someone who had just been dumped, instead, he sat there looking like the sky would be falling and he'd still remain calm, cool and collected. The same unruffled laid back demeanor he had that day I first saw him.

 

If you've been to a charity fundraising event you know how it is. People excited, people laughing, people anxious, people talking all at once -- and no body listening. Yet there he was, standing alone in the corner, part of everything and everybody but yet so visibly his own person (my kind of man!). I was watching him when he looked my way. He nodded lightly but didn't come over until three hours later. He introduced himself, we chatted, exchanged telephone numbers...

I sat next to him on the bench. "That song", I started, "What was that about?"

He was a pilot by training, and came from a well to do family. Six years ago, he went on an African Safari with his fiancée. They just wanted to see the animals and have a wonderful time. But while there, he fell in love, not with the animals but with the people. He made friends with the tour guides, waiters, hotel help, the woman selling fresh fruits at the hotel's gate -- anyone and everyone. He visited their homes, attended their celebrations and talked to them until very late into the night. The next morning he accompanied his fiancée on the scheduled Safari tours but he wasn't interested in the animals. He just couldn't wait to be with his new found friends -- eat their food, dance their dances and share in their laughter.

Back from Africa, he couldn't think about anything else. While everything seemed familiar, he felt different. Something inside of him had changed. Even what it meant to be himself had a different meaning. The things he once saw as "normal", he now saw as wasteful and destructive, meaningless and superficial. He started looking at price tags on items in terms of "that's like x number of treated mosquito nets" or "that's the price of y number of clean water pipes". So often, he'd find himself tuning out of conversations with family and friends leaving every one wondering if he was okay.

He was a new man with a new mission. He put himself to work, raising money, writing project proposals and contacting non-governmental organizations working in East Africa. In that time, his fiancée left him, his friends stopped calling, and his family said they didn't know him any more. With all that was "familiar" gone, there was nothing to hold him back. He sold his home, furniture, car and many of his personal belongings, packed what he could take with him and back to Africa he went.

But before leaving, he signed a two-year rent agreement for the one bed-roomed apartment. He didn't want to waste any money on a hotel or inconvenience friends or family every time he came home to do some more fundraising. It was in one of these fundraisers that he and I met.

And after only three dates -- a total of five hours with him -- I had judged him, labeled him, and dumped him. He was right, I wasn't any different, after all.

This happened a few years ago. This article is part confessional and part a personal challenge!

Are you one of those people quick to judge others, give them labels and dismiss them?

What you see on the surface ain't the picture, it's just a part. That taxi driver who dropped you off, may have just lost his wife, child or mother. The young woman who waited on you last night may need a medical procedure but has no health insurance. The Mailman who smiled at you this morning may have been told he will not have a job tomorrow. The kid who almost knocked you down the other day may have been running to get to the homeless shelter before the doors closed.

Before you judge someone, give him or her a label or dismiss that person, ask yourself "What is his/her story?"

Everybody's got one. You just have to want to look past your own judgments, past the labels you give others, past your own problems, and see the other person -- not his or her human condition but his or her human spirit. You can't help it but be changed. Even what it means to "be yourself" will take on a different meaning.

If only we could remember "I am because we are", we might actually see the human spirit outshine the human condition.