Fuller Wiser

Relationships are weird. The ones you have, the ones you once had, and the ones you’re not entirely sure you’re having.

Despite my mostly unconventional ways, in some areas of my life I’m a ritualist. One of these rituals is the morning workday routine. Though the food portion of my breakfast can vary, the drink never does. As soon as I’m off the train, I duck into my local Starbucks and get a tall mocha frappucino. Been doing it for months now, and the staff there knows me.

The staff. It’s usually the way I think of the people who take my orders at restaurants. I’m not one of these who strikes up relationships with the staff, because I see my activity in food establishments as very businesslike, something to get done so I can go do something else. It might be the fact that I’ve never worked in food service. I chat far longer with booksellers and grocery store clerks, both of which are members of my former professions. But with food, I’m very much hi, gimme the food, see you later.

Now, this is not to say I don’t think of the staff as people. I believe politeness is a necessary component of human interaction, because really, we’re all just trying to get through our day with a minimum of high blood pressure and resentment, and why the heck would I want more stressed-out people in the world?

And of course, I am a heterosexual male, so some members of the staff may get slightly more attention from me than others. This is the case at my local Starbucks, where I not-infrequently share a shy smile with a girl we’ll call K.

K is my kind of girl. Quiet, cute, got a bit of meat on her, and a little shy. And I have been able to infer, both from her behavior and those of some of her co-workers, that she may be attracted to me.

Flirtations between quiet people can be sweet, but often frustrating, especially if your only interaction is in a work environment, and your relationship is that of customer-employee. Were I a chattier sort, I might make offhand remarks about something my wife and I did over the weekend. That’s worked well in the past, when a spark flew between me and another woman. It’s tactful, difficult for onlookers to decode, and is utterly devoid of rejection. With the right body language, it says, “I like you, too, but I’m already taken.” The recipient of the message then gets a charge from being desired, and a signal not to focus their energies in a direction that will end up being fruitless and disappointing. It’s worked that way on me in the past, anyway.

But since I’m not a talker, saying something like that at the Starbucks counter would call far more attention than would be comfortable to either me or K. And since I lost my wedding ring some years ago and haven’t gotten around to replacing it, there are no obvious signals that I’m married.

Last month, I noticed that she started taking extra care to call me by name, rather than by the drink I ordered, and since I’m far from the only regular there, it seemed significant. A question about how I was spending my holidays was out of character for her, and could have been an opportunity for me to derail the train with a wife comment. Unfortunately, it was a morning in which the kid had woken up periodically all night before, and thus I wasn’t at my mental best. Vague holiday references were all she got in return, and then I was out the door, fishing in my bag for an ibuprofen.

This was apparently a fairly significant event, because after the holidays, her interactions with me were unusually terse and devoid of smiles. I had obviously pissed her off, because other customers were still seeing K’s friendly grin.

In what may either have been a foolish or wise move, I doubled my efforts to be friendly to her the following week, and gradually I saw the smile come back. It’s very awkward, though. Expressing friendliness without stepping over into flirtiness is very difficult, especially when the target considers you to be on the market. But I was glad to have the old K back, even if the riddle of the guy who wouldn’t advance wasn’t solved.

Today, though, was very interesting.

As I’ve hinted at before, I’m not as skinny as I used to be. Not fat, per se, but certainly not trim. I know I could look better without the paunch, and it’s my intention to address it one day. My plate’s just too damn full at the moment to even bother with it. But someone else is noticing, too.

I thought it was odd last week when I gave K my order, and she repeated it, saying “no whip, right?” She makes my mocha frappucino every day, she should know I go whole hog. I corrected her politely, and her eyes fell visibly. At the time, I wondered if this wasn’t a message. I’m under no illusions that the whip is good for me, I just like it. But she sees me drink this stuff every day, and knows where at least part of my gut is coming from. Very thoughtful of her to help, but no thanks.

But this morning, to a smiling K, I gave my tall mocha frappucino order, and heard it immediately called back to the prep area as a “tall light no-whip mocha frappucino.” I thought about contesting it, but K, her shy smile peeking out from shaggy bangs, stopped me in my tracks. This was an intervention. She was trying to help me. For her own reasons, perhaps, but also in my own interest. K had issued her own coded message: “I like you, but you could stand to lose a little weight.” I can hardly deny it. And the light no-whip tasted just fine.

It’s hard to say what’s next for me and K. At some point, I will find the opportunity to reveal my marital status, and some of the tension between us can dissolve. But for now, I can feel a little warm inside that someone I don’t know very well cares enough to help me take care of myself. I’m unsure how to reciprocate, but even in taking the time to think about it, I’m paying more attention to a restaurant staff relationship than I ever have, and it’s making my life better.

There’s probably a lesson here. Lessons can be hard to extract from ongoing situations, but it’s worth doing if you can. Because life is an ongoing situation, and me and K are just trying to figure it out.