Mr. Shaw and I Get Vietnamese Food

"Wow! What a shift in perspective," he says.

My first post with Mr. Shaw, friend #19, was on February 19, 2023.

It’s a Wednesday evening. Mr. Shaw and I are sitting at a table in the middle of a downtown Toronto Vietnamese restaurant. In our two-year-long friendship, this is the only time I've made the trip into the city for him—he usually drives up to suburbia.

“We should avoid the pork,” he says as if to be aware that he is dining with a Jewish girl.

“I don’t really follow the rules,” I reply.

We’re dissecting a quote inspired by Anthony Bourdain’s conversation with President Obama in Vietnam. The two are slurping Pho when the latter says, “You don’t make peace with your friends, you make peace with your enemies.”

“Do you agree with it?” asks Mr. Shaw.

“There are friends I’ve had who weren’t there for me when I needed them. I don’t consider them my enemies, but for my well-being, I like to pretend they don’t exist,” I say.

He laughs, leaning to the side of the table.

I explain that I have an ex-friend I know I’ll see at a wedding in Paris in June, and I have no desire to rekindle our friendship or go beyond shallow conversation, but to me, that is peace.

“You don’t think people can change?” replies Mr. Shaw.

“I think I’ve seen enough of this person, and she wasn’t there for me when I needed her. And so why do I need her friendship when I’ve spent the last few years building new ones?” I answer. “But I do change my opinions on things all the time.”

Mr. Shaw brings up a quote by the Dalai Lama, “Our enemies are our greatest teachers.” He then reflects on his friendship with a former teaching colleague. “After AppleJohn died, I didn’t see myself being friends with him because the three of us would usually go out together. But he reached out and I thought, ‘Why not? I know I’ll have a good time.’”

“I’ve been dumb the last few years,” I admit.

“Why?” says Mr. Shaw almost seriously.

Because I was upset by the fact that the person or people I wanted in my life weren’t who I needed them to be when I had other people who were. At 21, when I got into a car accident on the way to see a boy who years later became my boyfriend, I was disheartened by his lack of support in the hours that followed—but my father was there. My father immediately dropped his work, got into the car, and met me at the collision centre. He waved his arms as I drove in so that I could see him.

At 25, in Miami, during a depressive episode of panic and despair, my brother booked a flight to the city to help me pack my belongings for my return to Toronto. During that same period, my friend Adriana called me every day, and once I was back home, she spent any of her free time with me.

“Every single day she’d think of something for the two of us to do. And she listened to me speak about the same nonsense over and over again. So I was never alone. I was simply focused on earning the loyalty of people who never deserved my company in the first place,” I say.

“Wow!” says Mr. Shaw with enthusiasm. “That’s so cool. What a shift in perspective.”

We admire my discovery. It is profound and meaningful—a beautiful lesson to appreciate the people around me.

“Most of what I was upset about is just a question of generosity,” I say.

“Generosity of spirit,” says Mr. Shaw.

“Yes,” I reply.

The friendliest people I know are generous with their time and energy and even with their money. “I’m not talking about buying Gucci, but they offer what they can, whether that’s coming to a dinner party with their hands full or offering to get a coffee,” I say.

Previously, in dating, I’d judge someone by their job, thinking that would be an indicator of their generosity. “Now I don’t. It has no correlation,” I add.

“That’s a big change,” says Mr. Shaw.

“Generosity is very irrational. It doesn’t make sense for a man to run off the plane and get flowers for his lover. Or for him to go out of his way to pick her up.” I say.

“Right, that’s just part of joie de vivre,” Mr. Shaw says.

“I would never see it as a big deal to travel a distance to meet someone I cared about. It’s pleasurable and joyous,” I say.

“An adventure,” he adds.

I’ve learned that if you’re generous, find people who are also generous to spend time with, or you will be taken advantage of. They’ll ask themselves, “What is her motive? From whom does she steal her time? Why does she occupy herself with silliness?” And then your own identity will begin to confuse you.

Our dinner, on a weekday after work, is a sign of my former history teacher’s own giving spirit. Over the last two years, we’ve met every few months to discuss ideas. The unconvenationality of our friendship adds depth of thought to our conversations.

“Your last few posts, they’ve been repetitive,” he says.

“I know, I know. I just think I’ve run out of things to say. My project was really led by mania. It was escapist, and now I feel a lot calmer. And more ready to meet someone,” I say.

“More ready than a year ago?” he questions.

“Maybe. Not that I think you can’t grow with someone. Of course, I’d hope to continue growing once I meet him,” I say.

“Some people might think ‘Has she moved on?’” he says.

“I hate that expression,” I reply quickly.

“Right,” says Mr. Shaw understandingly. “It almost implies forgetting the past when our past makes us who we are.”

“I’m also not even sure what it means,” I say. In October 2022, and after my romantic relationship ended, I went to visit my friend Davida in Dallas, I told her that to help myself get over it, I’d take another lover.

“She assured me it was a terrible idea, and I’m glad I listened. But still to help me move on, I positioned myself correctly to have a brief romance with an Armenian-American named Michael. We kissed on the first date. It didn’t help me move on at all.”

Mr. Shaw, who met his second wife in his late 30s, acknowledges that he may not have had the sensitivity necessary to build his relationship if he hadn’t gone through divorce.

“I completely understand the feeling of ‘when is this going to happen,’” he says. “Before I met Susie, I went on a trip to Southeast Asia and in the evenings, I remember longing for a companion.”

“I know that when it happens, it will feel like I haven’t waited at all,” I say.

“That’s right. I’m sure many people would love to be in your position,” he says.

I must recognize that I’ve experienced great successes over the last few years—with this blog, my jewelry business, and most importantly, with cultivating a wonderful and supportive friend group.

“If I had stayed in Miami, I would’ve been a loser,” I say. “My life would be small and focused on the wrong things.”

“And you’d be influenced by what someone else thinks is right,” Mr. Shaw adds.

“I pressured myself with expectations, to meet someone by 23 and be married by 27. Did you ever want children?” I ask him.

“It was never something that was important for me. If I had been with someone who wanted a kid, then I would have had one. But it was never a priority,” he says.

The French existentialist philosopher Simone de Beauvoir, who had many views on love, described authentic love as one where both lovers walk side by side, giving without self-loss—a respect for each other’s individual lives. This freedom to be at peace is the most authentic of loves.

“The roles of men and women are so different now in relationships that it confuses people,” I say.

“That’s so true. In my first marriage, I did all of the cooking. Now, every morning, Susie uses an old family recipe to make me donuts. She brings it to me with coffee and cuts up apples for work. Someone looking at this from the outside must think we’re out of the ‘50s, but she does these things because she enjoys it,” he says.

“I think part of my problem now is that I mainly spend time in suburbia with 50-year-olds,” I say.

“And you came down to have dinner with a 60-year-old,” Mr. Shaw replies.

“And still, after all this time,
The sun never says to the earth,
"You owe me."

Look what happens with
A love like that,
It lights the whole sky.”

―Hafiz