Monday morning, I saw Mr. Andy Griffith. I see him often, as I grab my early-morning coffee, but Monday morning was different. He asked me to have a seat with him for a while. I sat to chat, but I felt mildly uncomfortable. This changed up my whole morning. Usually, I get into work about 20 minutes early, with the office to myself, and eat breakfast and drink coffee. I get time alone to wake up, destress from the morning commute, and prep for the day. But instead I was with Mr. Andy Griffith who, as it turns out, is rather talkative in the morning.
And Monday morning, he talked an awful lot - mostly about his son. Who is a firefighter. And who just happened to be coming to meet his dad for coffee on Wednesday morning.
Which, naturally, meant I should be sure to show my face at my coffee place on Wednesday morning.
So I did. I figured it couldn't be a bad idea, right? I wasn't changing my routine for anyone, and why should I consciously pass up the opportunity to meet a single firefighter? This morning I waltzed into the coffee shop for my coffee, a smile on my face, eyes bright -- no small feat after being out all night at a concert. (I'm an old lady, I just can't do that on a work night anymore!)
I purchased my coffee cup.
I filled my cup with coffee.
I turned to Mr. Andy Griffith. There was no Firefighter. He asked me to sit with him, and I did, but I was clear that I could only stay for a few minutes. He told me how much he had missed me when I didn't get my coffee yesterday. Even before I met Mr. Andy Griffith, I did not visit the shop every day. I can't afford to buy coffee every day. But now, if I don't go in every morning, he tells me in an old, creepy way how much he misses me.
We chatted for a bit. He talked about politics (not an okay topic, when he doesn't know me) and I politely excused myself after a few minutes so I could get to work on time. He took my hand in both of his to say goodbye - a slightly old-fashioned but not necessarily inappropriate gesture - and held it tightly. Very tightly. And he wouldn't let go.
And Folly's stomach got that feeling, you know, the Gut, if you will, that maybe I don't like Mr. Andy Griffith so much anymore. I wasn't sure how to feel about him the past week, when he started talking to me more and more, but sometimes Folly can be a mean little bitch, and he seemed like such a nice old man.
Well, Folly no longer cares if she's a mean little bitch because The Gut is raring in full force, and Mr. Andy Griffith is giving me the willies. Follies, if you have some advice on how to excise the talkative Mr. Andy Griffith from my morning coffee run, please let me know. I don't want to give up my coffee place, but I dread the thought of telling an old man that he's crossed a creepy-line, when he may or may not even know it. I don't know, Follies, I don't know. I just know my Gut is really fired up about this guy.
In other news, Coworker talked to me today about The Bandleader. Turns out he's been pining over a girl for over a YEAR now, and they started dating at about the time Coworker introduced us, but she didn't know about the girl until recently. So. I was correct in trusting my gut and not contacting him. He sounds like a repeat of D, and I don't need that!