Selfishness, or Something like It

This essay, like most of my other essays, was born out of a recent conversation I had with a friend, or do I call them an acquaintance. Honestly, I’m tired of labels, so let’s call them a friendquaintance and move on.

I’m not even sure what question they asked me anymore because before I could answer, they launched into a monologue that lasted well over an hour. Which, to be fair, worked out nicely for me. As I mentioned in one of my past essays, my work involves asking questions. Still, over the years, my career has also taught me to listen, and as someone who selectively shares her own life, listening suits me just fine.

So I listened, like a therapist.

I listened to them talk about the properties they own, the ones they are yet to buy, the maximum they can borrow, the boyfriend they have, and even a Google search meant to demonstrate just how important said boyfriend is. And as they went on and on and on, I found myself thinking about a conversation I’d had some time ago with an acquaintance—this one is definitely an acquaintance—whom we’ll call J.

J, on a lovely evening, asked me this:

“So, a question I have been thinking about is, how much of our interpersonal contact is based on truly wanting to know something about the other, and how much of it is based on something selfish? Feeling good, talking about your own stuff to people.”

A very interesting question that got me quite excited. If I had wheels in my brain, J would have heard them turning as I mulled over it.

J then followed up with:

“Our instincts, our thoughts, and our actions. Sure, we can seem altruistic at times, but are we really? Is it truly possible? But that’s not the question I’m thinking about. I’m thinking about the following: how much of our interpersonal contact is altruistic, and how much is for selfish reasons. And I’m not just talking about the small talk at the coffee machine at work, but even when meeting good friends and family, loved ones. We go there to feel good, to feel seen, and to feel included. Look at the network I have. Look at me being friendly and having a proper good time, I made it in life. I’m just saying I feel most human interaction is based on selfish motives. We need the other for our own specific reason.”

I told J I needed to think about it. But when I was done thinking, here was what I responded with.

We as humans rarely do things simply for the sake of doing them. A lot of us ask certain questions because we want the opportunity to talk about ourselves. We ask about your hobbies because we hope you’ll ask about ours and perhaps think we’re interesting. Talking about ourselves feels good, which would explain why so many of our conversations are less like dialogues and more like waiting rooms, with us all pretending to listen while impatiently waiting for our turn to speak.

I mean there is research to corroborate that talking about ourselves activates the same reward systems associated with pleasures like food or sex. Which explains quite a lot about why we approach conversations and interactions the way we currently do.

But I also told them that I don’t think our selfishness and curiosity are mutually exclusive.

Some people genuinely want to know you. They want to know what makes you laugh, what keeps you up at night, and what weird thing happened when you were twelve that somehow led to you needing therapy. But perhaps part of that desire is also wanting to know how much of themselves they recognize in you.

I even asked J:

“Maybe I can apply the same thing to your question. Are you asking because you’re curious about my opinion? Or because you already have some interesting thoughts you can’t wait to share with me, thoughts that make you feel good because you’ve formed them?”

“And yes, you indeed could apply it also to my question. I guess in this case my motive was more: am I too negative about this, or do other people have a similar view to it?”

“I think finding the love of our life is an exceptional example. We are literally looking for someone to fall in love with, so that person can make us feel safe, secure, happy, interesting, and satisfied. We need that person for that. Of course, you love someone and do things for them, but you do so because it also gives you a good feeling, and you know your significant other will be happy with you for it.”

So, when my friendacquaintance sat opposite me, talking about properties, houses, boyfriends, and all that, I kept thinking that J would find this so fascinating.

As I now pen this down and ruminate about it all, I think to myself that I don’t know if I’d call it selfishness. Maybe it’s something greyer than that, like a midway between self-interest and genuine curiosity.

Yes, I agree that humans love nothing more than to share. We cannot wait to have a platform, to disclose, to be witnessed, even if that audience is just one person. But as J and I both agreed, I don’t think that makes us evil, or fake, or incapable of love.

J thought romance was the perfect example. We seek love because we want someone who makes us feel safe, secure, happy, and understood. And they’re probably right because even love isn’t free from our own desires.

So, if that is the case, perhaps selfishness isn’t the opposite of genuine connection; perhaps connection itself is built on mutual selfishness. I see you because I want to be seen. I listen because I hope you’ll listen back. I tell you my story because I hope you’ll trust me with yours.

Perhaps pure altruism doesn’t exist because none of us approach another person free of need, curiosity, loneliness, or certain desires.

…and maybe this essay isn’t exempt either. After all, here I am, writing hundreds of words about a conversation with J and a friendquaintance while telling you that humans love nothing more than to disclose, to share, to have a platform, and to be witnessed.

So now it’s your turn to wonder, did I write this because I genuinely care about your opinion, or because I just wanted another excuse to talk/write?

Both, perhaps? IDK. What’s your opinion?