Love you!

You know how sometimes you see a stranger and you fall in love with them a little bit? And not in a sexual way, but in a, "You're so adorable!" way. Or maybe you feel a kinship with them for something you observe -- a button or a pair of sneakers they're wearing, something you hear them say, whatever. But you love them for that moment in a special little way for whatever it is and I think we should start telling them.

I once got an email from my friend The Universe.

Ever have one of those days, Susan, when you're feeling so good, crossing a street, driving your car, shopping at the mall, when, from a distance you see a complete stranger, with a kindly face, and you simply can't help yourself from whispering a silent "I love you..."?
Oh, cool, because there has been many a time, in many a place, when some unknown face whispered the same to you....

Love you,
The Universe

And the thought of someone on a train or in a theater or crossing the street seeing me and feeling that "stranger love" for me made me happy. And sometimes when I'm going into work (When I had a job, that is.), or I'm out walking Chulo, I remember that email and get a little tingly thinking that maybe right that second someone in my vicinity is sending me stranger love. I think people would like to know when they're receiving stranger love.

So why don't we tell them?

Because it would be creepy.

The thing is, I think it could be a good thing -- like a pass it forward/random act of kindness thing. We've just got to figure out how to do it without sounding skeevy or lecherous. Like, you can't just say, "I so totally love you," to the little rocker who looks just like all of your ex-boyfriends from 1986. Either he'd make fun of you (the absolute worst) or he'd think, "Why's this old lady saying this to me?" (Takes place of "absolute worst" if he says this out loud.), or people around you would think you're a pervert (Not the first time ...). And all you were saying was that seeing him in those skinny jeans with a black t-shirt and hair-band hair reminded you of a super fun time in your life when all you wanted was to see the Ratt-Poison tour. (Twice!)

So. You see our problem. To tell the person the entire background of why you are having a little moment about them is cumbersome. Saying, "You are so adorable to me, I totally love you," doesn't explain enough. Maybe I'll make buttons to hand out. Or those wooden nickel things. With some sort of catch phrase printed on it. Like, "Just wanted to say I love you, but not in a creepy way," on one side and, "Have a nice day!" or a smiley face on the other.

Cuddle, anyone?

So, a few years ago I was walking down Third Avenue on my way to work on the Upper East Side. A guy with a microphone and a camera crew approached me.

Excuse me, would you mind being interviewed for a moment?

Being shy and uncomfortable with attention, I flipped my hair and asked, "How's my makeup?"

Fine.

An assistant had me sign a waiver and then, on camera, the guy asked me if I had ever heard of a "Cuddle Party". I said that I had a cuddle party every morning.

Erica and I had just gotten Chulo at that time and every morning we'd have "Family Cuddle Time" with him. We'd set the alarm early so that we could do it. It was part of Chulo's recovery from his Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that he had from his time spent homeless in Queens.

Would you ever cuddle with strangers?

I don't know. Maybe. If the timing was right.

There is an official Cuddle Party this afternoon. I'm going, would you come with me?

Absolutely. What time?

I took a lunch break that day and walked over to the Cuddle Party address. I got there and paced on the sidewalk for a few minutes. "Am I really about to do this? The interview guy seemed nice enough. What show did he say this was for? He promised that it was all very innocent and safe. Ok. I'll go. God. Am I really going? Yes. Go! Get up there before Interview Guy sees you pacing out here."

So I ring the buzzer.

Hello?

Hi. I'm here for the, um, Cuddle Party?

Buzzzzzzzzz.

The door unlocks and I make my way up to the third floor. I turn the corner and there they are. All four of them. In their pajamas. Three guys, one girl. The girl appeared to be making hummus. I looked inside for Interview Guy and the camera crew. Nothing.

Hey! Come on in! (Says the creepiest guy of them all.)

Uh. Is Interview Guy here? I was supposed to meet him.

No, not yet, come on in, he should be here soon.

Oh. That's okay. I'll wait for him out front.

Obviously, I ran. And I went at least five blocks out of my way to avoid Interview Guy and his camera crew.

Flash forward to today.

Today I stayed at home to get ready for our trip and on my breaks from washing sheets or writing dog instructions, some of my friends and I have been emailing each other increasingly ridiculous YouTube clips. In response to one, my friend Sparky sent this:Which reminded me of the Cuddle Party incident. So, I Googled. And, not only did I find the official Cuddle Party website, I found the show Interview Guy was from -- and the episode that he interviewed me for.I haven't watched it because:
1. I don't think I made the cut since I chickened out and ran away.
2. If I did make the cut, I would be horrified.

PS. The guy in the blue shirt is the one who answered the door. And yes, I believe those are chickens on his pants.