The Perfect Stranger

I commented on another bloggers’ post this morning (this was the first time I’d read something on her blog), and after rambling on about whatever I was commenting on, and getting totally off track, I finished with an apology; something to the effect of how I was terribly sorry for babbling incoherently to a perfect stranger.

Later, as I was taking my morning power walk; that’s the one without the old dog, where I actually walk a mile or so without stopping. The two I take each day with the dog consist of me standing and watching her sniff the grass, trees, and other “stuff”, and covers probably less than a quarter mile. Lately she’s taken to wagging her tale while sniffing “stuff”, and I’m wondering what that’s all about. Is she thinking, “Wow this smells like bacon!”, or “Cool. I know this dog; big black lab down the block.”

… … What was I talking about? Oh! Yeah, yeah, yeah! I started thinking about that “perfect stranger” thing. The logical question is; what is a perfect stranger? To which the logical answer is; someone you know perfectly nothing about. Right? But that’s too simple. Oh, wait… I’m the guy who’s always saying, “Keep it simple.” So, sue me! I want to play with this one a bit.

So, what makes a stranger a perfect stranger? Nobody’s perfect; everybody knows that. But we’re not talking about just anybody, or just any nobody, we’re talking about a stranger. Webster says a stranger is: a person that is unknown or with whom one is unacquainted. Well, duh! (By the way, he says a bunch of other stuff, too, but this is the one we’re interested in, so bear with me.) And, as long as we’re seeking out Daniel’s (Webster, for any Aggie’s that might be reading this) expertise, he defines perfect as: being entirely without fault or defect. BAM! He nailed another one!

So with no further research needed, I think we can safely say there is no such thing as a perfect stranger, which by definition would be: a person that is unknown or with whom one is unacquainted, that is entirely without fault or defect.

So, the next time you think you’ve spilled your guts to a perfect stranger, do not despair! You have merely babbled a bib-full to a defective person who, no doubt, has numerous faults, and with whom you are unacquainted!

There now. Aren’t you glad we got that all cleared up?


  1. terri0729 said

    Yes, so glad! But one minor observation. After you have just “babbled a bib-full” to this stranger, they really aren’t a stranger anymore, are they? LOL! just had to thrown that monkey wrench into your works there Charlie!!! hugs, Terri

    • Well! For your information, there was no minor to observe in the story, so I don’t know WHAT you were lookin at! And, I must tell you, I find your wrench monkey comment to be perfectly strange!
      Or somethin like that…
      Thanks for the comment, Terri!

  2. smiles…none of us are perfect…and once we start talking we arent strangers any more either are we? smiles.

    • That’s what Terri said! So, I guess y’all are right!
      Thanks for reading and commenting on this one, Brian!

  3. Thanks for making me smile! 🙂

  4. Sherry Mashburn said

    Perfectly strange . . .

  5. this is such a hilarious circle of logic…I am not sure you meant humor, but I hope so as I am loving this

    • Definitely humor, my man. Hang around long enough, you’ll learn the circles my mind travels. Sometimes serious, sometimes not, but always hoping to lift the reader’s spirit!
      Thanks for the great comment!

  6. You, my dear man, are strangely perfect in my eyes…and I bet more so in your sweetie pies eyes, heart and soul.
    Siggi in Downeast Maine

  7. Hi Charles–I am sure that you are a very friendly (in the best of ways) stranger, meaning an unknown person who makes one feel at home and acknowledged. K.

  8. Lydia said

    Thanks for your comments at my blog; I am late in making the rounds to read/comment.

    The imperfect persons we meet via blogging can sure be precious, however! After comments back-and-forth between a young man in Philippines and me, he simply decided to add “Mom?” at the end of one of his messages. His own mother had walked out on the family when he was nine. I never had kids. We were a match! Two years later he won a scholarship to study for two weeks at Johns Hopkins and my husband and I flew him out to the west coast to see us afterward. We spent a marvelous week together, and are, of course, in close contact ever since. Simply wonderful.

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