Who am I pretending?

With my wife and children out of town, I’ve had enough time recently to really be about as selfish as I want to be. I control the television. I control the temperature. I control the kitchen. I even control the level of noise in the house…oh yeah!

As I was pondering just how to spend my last evenings of liberated loneliness, it occurred to me that I am highly skilled at entertaining myself. Perhaps as a result of having been an only child, I’ve spent my 39 years becoming a master of doing things that make me happy. And now I truly am an expert on acquiring satisfaction through activities.

But as I was consulting my internal desire algorithms for guidance, a rather distracting thought occurred to me: What if I made it my new hobby to become just as much an expert at making other people happy as I am at doing so for myself? Even more uncomfortably, am I really even trying to love my coworker as myself if I don’t pursue such otherishness?