Being a regular

My wife wants to do it. She wants to visit the same place where she enjoys the same meal receives the same friendly service every time. She wants to go where everybody knows your name — or at least she wants to go where everybody knows her name.

It’s called being part of a community, she says. Maybe it is. Why can I get into it? Is it the fact that I don’t want to join a group that would accept me. It could be less philosophical, like I don’t like eating in the same restaurant every time I go out.

This is connected to the internal and external debate, deciding if you should live in a place with lots of activities or live in a place that allows you to grow personally. My wife takes the middle route: She can find lots of activities interesting to her anywhere.

There are days I don’t seem to be able. I found that one way to fight being a regular is to change locations a lot. The urge to move. The urge to look from the outside in. The urge to purposely not belong. The problem is it short circuits potential.