No One in the Passenger Seat Part I: Always Going Somewhere

No One in the Passenger Seat
Part I: Always Going Somewhere

I spend a surprising amount of my life going somewhere.

Some days that means hours behind the wheel, watching one place disappear into another through the windshield. I pick someone up, we talk for a while, I drop them off, and the door closes. The car becomes quiet again until eventually another destination appears on the screen. Other days Im working on photography or filmmaking, building my production company, thinking about future projects, or trying to turn one of the many ideas occupying my head into something real.

There is almost always something to do, and lately there is almost always something to pay for. Fuel, food, bills, debt, equipment and business expensesthe ordinary costs of existing that somehow dont feel particularly ordinary anymore. Filling the car is particularly good at reminding me of this. You can actually stand there and watch the numbers climb while contemplating all the more interesting things you could have done with that money.

Everything seems to want a little more than it did yesterday.

Its strange how easily adulthood can become a collection of obligations. You work because things need to be paid for, try to save because eventually something will go wrong, and work toward something better because simply maintaining what you already have doesnt feel like enough. Somewhere among all of that, youre also supposed to have a life.

You Should Get Out More

Its one of those wonderfully simple pieces of advice: if youre lonely, go out. Meet people. Join something. Talk to somebody.

I dont necessarily disagree with it. The problem is that going out isnt quite as effortless as the phrase makes it sound. Going somewhere takes time, often takes money and fuel, and requires enough energy after everything else youve already done that day to actually want to be there.

And then comes the more interesting question: where exactly are we all supposed to be going?

There are plenty of places filled with people. That doesnt necessarily mean theyre places where people meet.

I interact with strangers regularly. I can have a perfectly pleasant conversation with somebody Ive never met before; sometimes its funny, sometimes surprisingly personal, and occasionally you meet someone whose story sticks with you long after youve gone your separate ways. Then the navigation announces that youve arrived, we say goodbye, the door closes, and its on to the next destination.

You can spend an entire day surrounded by human beings and still end it alone. Most of the time I dont even notice that.

Thats probably important.

When Hello Became Complicated

Meeting people shouldnt be particularly difficult. Humans have been doing it for a rather long time, yet somehow weve managed to make even hello complicated.

When a stranger approaches us, theres often an invisible question attached: Why are they talking to me? Are they flirting? Selling something? Looking for sex? Trying to get my number? Do they actually want friendship, or are they simply being friendly?

Being the person considering saying hello isnt much better. Am I bothering them? Will this be misunderstood? Do they want to be left alone? Should I just keep walking?

Ill criticize this while fully admitting Ive done it myself. Ive avoided conversations, looked at my phone, or decided not to say something because I couldnt figure out how it would be received. Apparently Im helping.

So sometimes nobody says anything. We go home, open our phones, and try to meet strangers on the internet instead.

There, apparently, weve solved the problem.

Except now were trying to understand an entire human being through six photographs and a paragraph that half of us probably didnt read.

Progress.

Connected to Everyone, Close to No One

Thats the part I find especially strange. We have extraordinary access to one another. Someone thousands of miles away can see something I created seconds after I publish it. I can maintain friendships across countries and find communities built around filmmaking, photography, gaming, naturism, art, travel, or almost any obscure interest imaginable.

There are dating apps specifically designed to introduce strangers, social networks specifically designed to create communities, and websites like this one built around something many of us already share: comfort with nudity and the naturist lifestyle. There have probably never been more ways to find another human being.

And somehow I can still stare at a screen full of people and have absolutely no idea who to talk to.

A friend request isnt necessarily friendship, and a match isnt necessarily the beginning of anything. Sometimes somebody sends me a message, I read their profile and realize they clearly didnt read mine. Sometimes I probably dismiss somebody too quickly myself. Maybe were all filtering one another while simultaneously complaining that nobody can find us.

I dont know.

What I do know is that sometimes Ill put the phone down and the room is exactly as quiet as it was before I picked it up.

The Comfort of Being Alone

The funny thing is that I actually like solitude. I need it, and creative work almost demands some of it.

I can disappear into filmmaking, photography, editing, gaming, experimenting with an idea, or building something for hours. Ive lost entire evenings that way and been perfectly happy about it. There is something peaceful about having nowhere you need to be and nobody demanding your attention.

Naturism has a similar quality for me. Being naked outdoors isnt about sexuality; its about removing something unnecessary for a little while. Feeling the air and temperature against my skin, the ground beneath me, and simply existing without thinking much about how Im supposed to present myself. There is an incredible simplicity to it, and some of my happiest moments are quiet ones.

So Ive never thought that being alone was inherently bad. For a long time, independence has actually been something Ive valued.

I have things I want to create and places I still want to see. France remains somewhere in that future, along with a production company Im trying to build and stories I havent made yet. There always seems to be another project, another responsibility, another destination waiting somewhere ahead of me.

Perhaps thats why it took me so long to notice that something had changed.

The Empty Seat

Driving gives you a lot of time to think. Maybe too much.

There are stretches of road where the music is playing, the engine is humming along, and the scenery is passing by without anything being particularly wrong. Ive driven like that countless times without thinking anything of it. Sometimes there was a passenger beside me only minutes earlier, talking about work, family, where theyre going, or whatever happened to come up during the ride. Then they reach their destination, the door closes, and eventually the car becomes mine again.

Occasionally Ill look across the car and notice the passenger seat is empty.

Normally that means absolutely nothing. Its a seat, and Ive seen it empty thousands of times. Lately, though, Ive started noticing it, and Im not entirely sure why.

I dont suddenly need someone occupying every quiet moment of my life, and I certainly dont believe putting another human being in that seat would magically solve financial stress, work, debt, uncertainty, or any of the other complimentary gifts adulthood keeps sending me.

Maybe wed just have two stressed people in a Volkswagen.

Still, Ive started wondering what it would feel like to have someone going somewhere with me. Someone to talk to after the destination has been reached; someone who doesnt disappear when the ride ends. Maybe thats friendship, maybe companionship, maybe eventually something moreor maybe Im getting ahead of myself.

Ive always enjoyed my own company. I still do. Thats what makes this difficult to understand. Nothing dramatic happened to suddenly make solitude unbearable, and I cant point to some particular drive when an empty seat became anything other than an empty seat.

At some point, I simply started noticing it.

And perhaps thats the question Ive been avoiding while keeping myself busy with everything else:

When does solitude stop being peaceful and start becoming loneliness?

Part II When Solitude Stops Being Peaceful