So, What's She Like?

Then, for the first time, I realized that nothing can be said about a woman; I noticed when they spoke about her, how much they left blank, how they named and described other people, surroundings, objects, up to a certain point where it all stopped, gently and as it were cautiously stopped at the light never-retraced outline that enclosed her. "What was she like?" I would ask then. "Blonde, more or less like you," they would say, and they would add all kinds of further details; but as they did, she would again grow quite indistinct, and I could no longer form her image in my mind.

Is it ever really possible to know someone? And even if it is, is it possible to describe someone to someone else?

Maybe it's me being neurotic, but I've always felt a mild panic at the words, "Well, what's she like?" I stutter, I stammer. I start describing physical attributes, but that just makes a mockery of the question. I say what she does, but that's only a very tiny part of who a person is. Inevitably trite, cliched observations emerge. Nice. Smart. Funny. If everyone was as nice, smart and funny as the people they start dating tell all their friends they are, the world would be a goddamn utopia.

More and more, I find that when I think of people, all I can summon are the impressions I have from hanging out with them; ephemeral, fleeting emotions or thoughts that I can't even define to myself, much less convey to others. Is that the answer to the question? Is it possible to know someone else when we spend our whole lives trying to figure out who we are? And if it isn't, and if we realize that, is it a bad thing? How much time and effort is wasted in a futile effort to know someone, how many times do we spend day after day after day in someone's company trying to become "closer" to that person when the effect is quite the opposite, increasing the levels of encroachment and resentment between the two people?

But then, what does that leave us? Isolated days, weeks, maybe even months with contact and then nothing inbetween? Is that enough? Is that right? Can people survive emotionally on that much/little emotional contact? I never want to need someone else to be happy, and yet, if I don't need someone, if I don't need something, what reason is there to be with anyone?