Somebody recognised me from this app in a queue on a Saturday morning
- Looking for
- somebody who will behave well if that ever happens to us
- Experience
- Twelve years, two dynamics, both long.
- Around
- the northern quarter, Manchester
In March a woman turned round in a queue on a Saturday morning, looked at me a beat too long, and said a version of my profile name with a question mark on the end. She was perfectly nice about it. I was holding a bag of shopping and could not think of a single word to say.
Nothing came of it and I do not think she meant anything by it. What it taught me is that there is no such thing as an online life in a city this size, and that the etiquette of what happens when a queue turns into a street is something almost nobody has agreed in advance.
So I agree it in advance now. If we ever see each other out, we do not know each other, unless one of us clearly signals otherwise. Nobody says a name. Nobody comes over. It is not rudeness, it is the arrangement.
Forty seven, the northern quarter, dominant, twelve years in, two dynamics, both long and both entirely private.
What I want is an ongoing arrangement with written expectations, a fixed evening and reporting between. Not looking for anybody who would find the shop rule funny enough to break. Not looking to be seen out.