When I wear this shirt, people want to be my friend. It’s the strangest thing for this introverted country gal but it’s true. I have wandered anonymously through this world for many, many years. Yet, on both occasions I have worn this shirt, people have wanted to talk to me about the shirt, about music, about themselves, about things that made me a bit uncomfortable.

One woman hugged me as she tearfully told me her life story. Let’s stop here for a moment. A stranger hugged me.

I swore after that day that I wouldn’t wear it in public again but I love it so much that clearly this was a lie.

I’ve met some nice people along the way because of this $20 tshirt. I’ve talked to shy teenagers and to outgoing seniors. I have talked to middle aged bikers who called me “Miss” – this made me like them more – and to a retail worker who saw the Beatles perform in 1965. The first time I wore it out, the only place where I was safe from random conversation with strangers was a cemetery where I saw no other living soul.

I’m starting to view it as a unique social experiment. It seems like people are starved for meaningful interactions with other humans. We stare at devices all day but are underwhelmed by our interactions with other humans. And maybe it’s just because the music of the Beatles excite people and inspire them to treat each other a little better. They think I’m a kindred spirit.

Maybe the Beatles were right … all you need is love. Or maybe it’s because “we all live in a yellow submarine!” Either way, I’m learning to talk to strangers when I would rather be left alone.