The Stranger Who Taught Me a Lesson

The Café Encounter That Wasn't About Coffee

It was a foggy Saturday morning in Santa Monica, the kind where the ocean seems to exhale into the streets. I was sitting at my favorite café, sipping an Americano, trying to finish an essay that felt like the literary equivalent of parallel parking—a lot harder than it looked. And then I noticed her.

No, not in that way. She wasn’t some rom-com muse with cascading curls and a tote bag of baguettes. She was probably in her mid-sixties, dressed in what can only be described as “art teacher bohemian.” Layers of mismatched fabrics, chunky turquoise jewelry, and the sort of confidence that comes from knowing you’ve outlived trends.

She sat at the communal table where I was quietly panicking over the blinking cursor on my laptop. Without any hesitation, she spread out a sketchbook, a tin of pencils, and what looked suspiciously like a cookie she’d snuck in from home.

“Nice day to people-watch, isn’t it?” she said, glancing at me over her glasses.

I smiled politely, unsure if this was a rhetorical statement or an opening for conversation. Turned out, it was both.

The Unexpected Pep Talk

Within minutes, she’d deftly sidestepped the usual small talk about weather and lattes, asking me what I was working on. I admitted I was trying to write something on relationships and stumbling—hard. She nodded like she knew the weight of the struggle, then offered, almost casually:

“You know, the hardest lesson we never get taught? How to stay curious about people. That’s where it all starts—and sometimes fails.”

I blinked. Honestly, I thought she might be about to sell me an inspirational mantra for $19.99 or pitch me an improv workshop. But instead, she just smiled again and started sketching in her notebook. I had no idea what she meant, but something about the way she said it lingered, like the last note of a good song.

Staying Curious: A Relationship Superpower

Later, as I walked home along Ocean Avenue, her words sank in. Curiosity—in relationships, in attraction, even in the messy aftermath of a breakup—is the magic glue.

Think about it: what’s the first thing that draws you to someone? Sure, you might notice how they look or laugh, but sooner or later, you’re hooked by the questions they make you want to ask. Who are they when no one’s looking? What’s their idea of the perfect Saturday? Why do they always order fries and a salad (and then only eat the fries)?

The problem is, a lot of us stop being curious as soon as we think we’ve “figured someone out.” We slot them into a convenient little category—“the neat freak,” “the dreamer,” “the likes-to-watch-everything-with-subtitles person.” And boom, curiosity gets replaced by autopilot.

How to Flex Your Curiosity Muscle

So, how do we avoid flipping into cruise control when it comes to our connections? Here are some practical ways you can stay genuinely curious in your relationships:

  • Ask thoughtful questions. Not just the “How was your day?” sort, but ones that show you’re paying attention, like, “What’s the best thing that’s happened to you this week?” or “What’s a song you’ve had on repeat lately?”

  • Be an active listener. Most of us listen to respond, not to understand. Instead of planning your next witty comment, actually digest what the other person is saying. (Yes, it’s harder than it sounds.)

  • Mix up your routines. Falling into patterns is a creativity killer. Try doing something spontaneous with your partner or asking a friend to join you for an activity neither of you has tried before.

  • Resist the urge to categorize. People are always evolving—even the ones you’ve known forever. Approach them with the same curiosity you’d have for a stranger. (Side bonus: this also works wonders with family members, especially during awkward Thanksgiving dinners.)

  • Stay humble about what you don’t know. When my café stranger dropped her truth bomb, she reminded me of something profound: Everyone we meet knows at least one thing we don’t. Treat every encounter like a chance to learn.

A Chance to Redefine "Strangers"

I never got her name. She sketched quietly for a while longer that day, then stood, said “Good luck!” and left as breezily as she’d arrived. It’s funny, isn’t it? We usually think about strangers as temporary blips on the radar, fleeting moments we brush past. But sometimes, they can tilt your perspective in a way you didn’t even know you needed.

That morning didn’t end in a grand revelation or a finished essay. But it did remind me of something simple and true: the people who leave the biggest marks don’t always enter with fanfare. Sometimes, they just show up, hand you a kernel of wisdom, and go back to their sketchbook before their coffee gets cold.

The Takeaway: Be Curious, Stay Open

In love, as in life, curiosity is underrated. It’s what makes the beginning of a connection electric, the middle rich, and the difficult parts survivable. When you stop wondering about someone, you stop really seeing them—and isn’t that when relationships start to feel less like partnerships and more like placeholders?

So whether you’re meeting someone new or rediscovering someone familiar, don’t underestimate the power of staying curious. Ask the questions, look for the unexpected, and try—just for a moment—to see everyone like that stranger in the café: someone with a story, a lesson, or maybe even a cookie they shouldn’t have brought with them.

Because let’s face it—intrigue beats autopilot every single time.