A couple of weeks ago, in my local shopping mall, I ran into three different women I know. Well, to be more accurate, I didn’t actually run into them. I ran away from one, I ignored a second, and I ran towards a third.
The first woman – I’ll call her Libby, which isn’t her name – was a friend of a friend, someone I’ve known for years but don’t especially love. I caught a glimpse of Libby heading towards me as I walked to a café, and I literally ducked into a bookshop to avoid her. To avoid making social arrangements I’ll later regret, I imagine bumping into the person at the shops.
Credit: ISTOCK It was silly, I know. But had I kept on walking, Libby and I would have been forced to acknowledge each other, and we would have had an awkward encounter, and neither of us would have enjoyed it, and, honestly, I just wanted to go and get my coffee. I saw the second woman – I’ll call her Beryl, which is definitely not her name – while I was ordering my cappuccino.
Beryl is a distant friend, someone I’ve caught up with once or twice over the years, and a perfectly pleasant person. I could have stopped and had a chat – one of those “Hi, how are you?” “Good, and you?” exchanges – but she is very talkative, and I still hadn’t had my coffee, and I just couldn’t be bothered having a conversation. So I casually ignored Beryl and kept my eyes on the barista until I could see in my peripheral vision that she had moved on.
Once I’d finished my coffee.
