Dimensions of Who We Are

Food for Thought

I had always thought that I was the only person who thought only my opinions mattered until I met my friend Warner. Somehow the way he expounded his arguments made me believe that his opinions mattered more. So, when he told me that this is the best restaurant in New York, I was giddy with excitement. He couldn’t join us tonight, but perhaps that was a good thing, as he didn’t have to worry about my critical gaze. I resent the fact that I value his opinions more than I do my own, so I wouldn’t easily concede.

But, yes, he was right; Roman’s has it all. Great food, decor, vibe, staff—a certain indescribable personality enchanted every detail. Even before we were finished, I felt I wanted to go back there again. Very few restaurants make me feel that way. Many high-end restaurants are conceptually and technically impressive but you get what you are supposed to get in a matter of minutes. They do not make me want to know them more.

In a way, a restaurant is like a person. Sometimes you meet someone who is, say, a math genius but not much else. Because he is so one-dimensional that, beyond perhaps his value as a super calculator, you don’t feel you want to know him any deeper. The funnest person to be with can often be a liability outside of your leisure hours. The nicest person can also be the most boring.

I think a one-dimensional personality is a symptom of stunted personal growth. You expose only one aspect of yourself you feel confident about, and nothing more. Regardless of how smart, talented, or nice you are, you come across shallow, not necessarily because you are, but because you are not willing to expose the intricacies of who you are, because you yourself do not have full understanding or control of them.

But sadly, just because you expose everything about yourself, doesn’t mean people would love you. That’s why you tend not to, but this fear also makes you judgmental of others who do. You project your fear onto them and laugh. But, I believe those who are willing to be laughed at will eventually achieve the delicate balance and depth—a certain je ne sais quoi.