Advice Part 109- Becoming an "irregular"

It's been a long time between drinks, dear readers, primarily because I have found it hard to motivate myself to so much as get out of bed, let alone write this blog. But today, I am feeling inspired (or it could just be that my only other option is to read a somnolent article on telemedicine, and, well, that's an opportunity I'd rather not avail myself of at the moment....).

So, without further ado, let us begin......

Much as I like to fancy myself as a free-thinker, always keen for some adventure and excitement, the reality is very different. I am what could best be described as a creature of habit (or, to be more precise, extremely boring).

However, I have recently come to realise that whilst regularity can be good, my advice to young players is that should you decide to change your habits, you had best be mindful of the consequences......

How do I know this? Read on.....

When I first met Rodrigo (why I am insisting on using an alias, I don't know, as anyone who reads this blog knows who I am talking about....but humour me), and we were in the first fine flush of fancy, we used to go out to dinner every Friday night, without fail. And nine times out of ten, we would go to the same restaurant, a particular Italian establishment near me.

This continued for about a year, during which time we became "regulars." Regularity meant:

• We knew the names of the waiting staff, where they lived, and their relationship statuses; 
• The manager would always ensure we got "our favourite table" when we appeared at 8 p.m. on the dot;
• We didn't need to look at the menus, because everyone knew what we would be ordering.

This was all very nice for a while, but then a variety of things happened, namely:

• Our favourite waiter and waitress both left;
• I started to get a bit stingy; and
• Rodrigo discovered cooking.

So we stopped going to the restaurant, and moved from being "regulars" to "irregulars" to "never set foot in the placers."

This would all be fine and dandy if said restaurant were in the backblocks of Woop Woop. But it's not. Rather, it is on the main street of my suburb, meaning that we end up walking past it EVERY SINGLE TIME we go to the shops. 

This is somewhat embarrassing, and I feel incredibly guilty when I see the manager leaning against the doorway. "It wasn't anything you did! Honestly!" I want to yell. But instead, we just scurry past, heads bent, eyes looking anywhere but at him.

My greatest wish now is that the restaurant becomes so popular, it has to move somewhere else. Preferably a long way away. A VERY long way away. 

But in the meantime, if you see two people racing past on a Friday night, under heavy disguise, you will know who they are.