Selfishness, or Something like It

This essay, like most of my other essays, was born out of a recent conversation I had with a friend, or do I call them an acquaintance. Honestly, I’m tired of labels, so let’s call them a friendquaintance and move on. I’m not even sure what question they asked me anymore because before I could answer, they launched into a monologue that lasted well over an hour. Which, to be fair, worked out nicely for me. As I mentioned in one of my past essays, my work involves asking questions. Still, over the years, my career has also taught me to listen, and as someone who selectively shares her own life, listening suits me just fine. So I listened, like a therapist. I listened to them talk about the properties they own, the ones they are yet to buy, the maximum they can borrow, the boyfriend they have, and even a Google search meant to demonstrate just how important said boyfriend is. And as they went on and on and on, I found myself thinking about a conversation I’d had some time ago with an…