Voyeuristic, Much?

Yes, I still watch people. I must admit, however, it is not as fun as it used to be. At Starbucks, we used to watch people as they walked by our store, and we would guess what kind of coffee drink they would order based on how they looked, interacted with people, etc...

I was always wrong. So much for Sociology Abby.

Last Friday, I was stuck in traffic. Because there was nothing much to do other than singing along with the radio, I started people watching. However, there was a couple in the car behind me that caught my eye. I watched them through my rear view mirror, hoping to pass as someone who was a stickler for road rules.

Both of them were wearing sunglasses, which makes it harder for me to read their behavior. The man was driving, apparently on the receiving end of the heated discussion. The woman was emphatically gesturing, her hands flailing, her mouth distorting her face as it spat out each single word. I couldn't tell what the fight was about, and the only words I could recognize were the ones I can't repeat. She was angry and she wanted him (and everyone else) to know it. And he, sat and listened, his deadpan face revealing nothing that he was thinking.

I started to feel bad for the man. He seemed to have done this all before, having perfected the blank stare as his wife was tearing him a new one.

And then he spoke. His face turned ugly as an equally foul speech left lips. (People are uglier when they are angry) The woman was silenced, and if it weren't for the sunglasses, she might have blinked in disbelief.

I don't know what the man had said, but it was enough to break her. She started rubbing at her face, lifting her sunglasses slightly to wipe away her tears. She did this repeating motion of rubbing the skin under her eyes for a few minutes (right around block six of following me) before she finally raised her sunglasses atop her head to gain full access to her crying eyes.

And the man, stoic as ever, did not reveal his reaction to his weeping wife.

Now I felt bad for the woman. She seemed to have done all of this before, this wiping away of her tears as a way to comfort herself because no one else would help her.

Sure, I don't know what happened between them. They may not even be married. After eleven blocks of tailing me, they took a right and our brief story together ended. It was now left entirely up to my imagination.

I suddenly felt guilty for spying on this couple, so I said a quick prayer for them. I know I will never truly make it as a true voyeur, but I'm ok with that. Sometimes what I imagine is bad enough.

Dear Random People in my rear view mirror:

I'm sorry I spied on you. I hope everything is all right. It'll get better soon.

Sincerely,
Abby, Retired Voyeur

And to think that I was going to observe people for a living.