I remember the first conversation I overheard at what has since become my favourite coffee shop. It was either my first or second week in Abbotsford. I had just moved in to a basement suite in the neighbourhood and hadn’t met anyone yet.
Then there they were.
Three girls around my age with vocabularies just-well-enough-developed that I knew their high school years pre-dated the texting era.
And then the Holy Grail: They started talking about DTRs and physical boundaries in relationships.
I HAD HIT THE CHRISTIAN MOTHER-LOAD.
I needed these friends.
So I waited till they were done their deeply personal conversation and were getting up to leave. I got up too and thought of a reasonable way to tell them I was new and interested in meeting people.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt you guys.”
[Their slightly surprised but pleasant response.]
“I just moved to town, and was wondering what kinds of things people our age do around here.”
They paused, looked at each other but not at me, then came up with a church young adults group and Swing Dance Sundays at the seniors’ centre.
Then they walked away.
My two thoughts at that moment were:
Number one: [Don’t roll your eyes at swing dancing — NO, Ashley, DON’T ROLL YOUR EYES!]
Number two: UM, HELLO?! Do you not realize you’re the first people I’ve talked to outside of work since I moved here!?
(Okay, I had probably also talked to my landlord and the pharmacist at that point . . . )
But these girls weren’t supposed to leave without me. Or at least without my phone number.
I was so naive.
My lowest low was at Abby’s famous dessert shop, when I tried to make conversation with two high schoolers by commenting on their matching outfits: a royal blue American Apparel hoodie on him and a royal blue American Apparel v-neck on her. Turns out it wasn’t planned.
I think I managed to make their first date even more awkward.
But maybe that wasn’t the worst. One night I targeted a coffee shop cashier as new-friend potential, and through what I thought was a natural conversation, found out she’d been in choir at a school my friend went to.
This was very good news. I knew enough about this topic to show interest and be engaging.
“I’ve heard great things about that choir! I remember reading that they got to sing with Josh Groban when he was here on tour! Wait, did you get to sing with Josh Groban?”
And then the moment I realized this conversation wasn’t leading to girly sleepovers and mall dates:
“Yes. [Blank stare.] It was magical.”
Lesson Learned
I could say it’s a crippling fear of late-return library fines that’s ended my habit of “reading” in public, but it’s not the truth.
A week or so ago when I was working on my laptop, two guys about my age sat at the table behind me. Through snippets of their conversation, I knew we’d get along. They reminded me of the amazing guys I was close with during university, before they all got engaged (or pseudo-engaged) and stopped replying to my Facebook messages.
I desperately wanted to turn around. A few times I got up and walked away from the table for a minute, JUST SO I COULD WALK BACK TOWARD THE TABLE, HAPPEN TO MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH ONE OF THEM, AND SMILE TO BREAK THE ICE. (Wow, not pathetic at all . . . )
We were literally feet from each other, but my year-plus of coffee shop experiences kept my hands firmly on my keyboard and my eyes on glued to the screen.
When a student sitting at the table next to me was clearly needing a break from his chemistry homework, I didn’t get up to offer a, “hey how’s it going? And when the girl sitting in front of me started scrolling aimlessly through her phone as she ate her sandwich alone, I didn’t try to strike up an awkward conversation.
Can great friendships start at the coffee shop? I’m still waiting to find out.
Flickr photo (cc) by lanuiop
