I would never claim great fame in the town where I live. That would be a lie. But I tend to run into a lot of people I know at unexpected places. I have also run into people I don’t really know. One reason is because I am Sip and Go Girl. I talk to a lot of people seen and unseen.

I was at Starbucks after church yet again one Sunday morning when a fella named Mo recognized me from my time as a denizen of the online dating community. He and I had chatted online via email but never made plans to go anywhere for a sip and go. Now, here he was at my usual Sunday Starbucks.

“Hey I know you….,” he said

We sat at a table and chatted. Mo and I talked about the possibility I was leaving the city where we lived and moving elsewhere. That started a conversation about his dissatisfaction with his job and his uncertainty about his future.

We ran into each other for several Sundays after that and we would always talk about our general employment-or-career-or-life-related unhappiness.

After several Sundays of this, I started getting a little cranky. Everytime I saw Mo I knew there would be a conversation about dissatisfaction. As much as I like to talk things out, the last thing I wanted to do is mark my Sundays with “Meet Mo and talk about dissatisfaction and disillusionment.”

Not my laptop. But I’d hide behind it if I could…

One Sunday I was at the end of a long and painful week. There were a lot of those at that time. I ran into Mo again. I was on deadline to get some paperwork done and he popped open his computer.

“I was at my niece’s wedding. I have photos.”

I didn’t care. And I told him so. Well, I told him by suddenly shutting down my laptop, throwing my things into my bag, and saying “Gotta go.”

I was tired of being compelled by some code of human behavior forcing me to pretend I was pleased to see him. I wasn’t. I did not want a steady sip and go. I wanted a Leave Me Alone and Go. I didn’t want to build up to some other phase in a relationship. I didn’t want yet another ambiguous friendship with a guy. I wanted to be solo.

Thus, I was abrupt and walked out of the store with nary a word.

That was the last time I saw or talked to Mo until last weekend. I walked into the same Starbucks and he was at a table with his laptop.

“Hey,” I said.

“You’re still in town,” he replied.

“Yup. Keeping busy and trying to stay out of trouble,” I laughed.

I walked past him, ordered my drink, and set up my computer at another table. He let me be and no other words were spoken.