Advice Part 82- "So lovely to see you!"

If, like me, you are not exactly a star performer at starting or maintaining romantic relationships, then you may very well have an ex (or two) lurking in your past. And maybe it's just me, but I would like my past relationships to stay EXACTLY there.

In the past.

Not popping up for a "hello" in the present or the future.

If only things were that simple....

My advice for young players is that sooner or later, you are probably going to run into one of your exes (unless, of course, you or s/he moves to Antarctica/becomes an astronaut/or some other similarly unlikely event). And this meeting is likely to be rather uncomfortable, so you had best be prepared.

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

Last night, I finished work early, so I decided to relax by going to yoga at the studio I have been attending for the last four or so years.

I got changed into my "uniform" of sweaty, smelly pants, and horrible free T-shirt, removed my glasses, and headed up the back of the yoga room to collect a mat. Being semi-blind (and, I will admit, a bit self-absorbed), I didn't really notice any of the other students, until I heard someone say "Hello (insert my name here- not sure why I'm so intent on maintaining the guise of anonymity, as I think everyone who reads this blog knows who I am, but please humour me)."

I looked up to see who the speaker was. It was my ex, the famous Mr X, who I have mentioned previously here and here. Mr X looks quite different now, having grown a beard and some head hair. This only compounded my surprise.

I was absolutely mortified, and muttered a "hello." But (uncharitable though it may be) I was incensed- what the HELL was HE doing in MY yoga class?! OK, OK, it's a free country, and he's at liberty to go to whatever yoga class he wants. I accept that. But there must be at least 10 other classes within a 5 km radius of mine. Why didn't he go to one of them instead? Or even if he wants to go to my yoga school, there's classes on at other times i.e. 6am in the morning. Surely that would be an option? SURELY?

Humph.

Let's just say, having an ex that you REALLY don't like in your yoga class is not exactly conducive to relaxation.....

I spent the first half of the class studiously avoiding looking at him, and hoping that he wasn't watching me doing the downward dog pose with my backside in the air. The second half of the class was no better, as I plotted my best route for leaving the studio ASAP so as to avoid any further conversational opportunities at the communal shoe rack. Shudder.

Maybe I should be more like my mum, who loves socialising with her former fiancé and his wife. But at the moment, I'm just hoping that Mr X finds a new hobby that isn't yoga VERY, VERY soon.

Advice Part 61- "Witty" banter

There are few things I enjoy more than going down to the local cafe every afternoon to get my obligatory skinny flat white. However, since I have become a "regular" (i.e. someone who doesn't have to say their order, because the barista knows exactly what I'll be having), this pleasant interlude has taken on a more stressful vibe.

Why? Two words. Witty. Banter.

My advice for young players is that it is all well and good being friendly with your local cafe folk, but just be aware of the risks of venturing into "banter territory."

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

A few months ago, I started working in a new place. And naturally, one of the first things I did was to find a purveyor of caffeinated beverages near my place of employment.

In choosing a new cafe, these are the criteria I used:

• Coffee tastes good i.e. barista actually knows what they're doing.
• Reasonable price. No more than $3 for take-away.
• No more than 5 minutes walk from work
• Attractive staff

Anyway, after a lengthy process which entailed my visiting four potential "locals", I made my decision.

All was fine and dandy at first. Until the regular barista decided that I was "banter-able."

The following conversation now tends to ensue with unfortunate regularity....

• Barista (grinning): Sooooooo, how's your day going, my dear?
• Me (pretending to be absorbed in the newspaper): Err, alright
• Barista: Only alright? That's not what I want to hear.
• Me (trying desperately to think of something witty): Yes, well.....(having a brain wave) How's your day going?
• Barista: Oh, you know. Better now you're here, ha ha!
• Me (trying to look "flattered"): Hmm. Yes. Well. Thanks (Frantically searching for smart quips in deepest depths of brain). Hey, why aren't you wearing your favourite hat today?
• Barista: I have to give the brain a bit of air. Do you like me better with my hat? I always like to please the ladies, you know (big wink)
• Me: Erm.....

This sort of "banter" occurs EVERY DAY now. Although it's even worse on Mondays and Fridays, when I have to endure some "witticisms" about my weekend.

And it drives me mental!

I'm all for a bit of small talk, but this sort of exchange leaves me totally floored. I have NO IDEA what to say, as my organ of wit seems to have shriveled and died.

If it ever existed in the first place.....