Today I met an ex-classmate from uni for coffee at Macquarie today.  Finally went to Max Brenner (he suggested, I went along because I didn’t have any ideas anyway) and it was well below the hype in my opinion.  I don’t actually drink coffee, so I had a cookieshake which is meant to be some sort of biscuity nutty frappe.  They all started at $8.60 (!) for a decent amount, but I still finished it pretty quickly.  There was no detectable nut flavour and was overall quite bland.  Starbucks frappes are much more delicious.

We actually talked for quite a while, although mostly on uni things.  It was really odd how he had his coffee in front of him, untouched, for fifteen minutes after we sat down and I was fixated on waiting for him to drink from it.  (He’s quite talkative.)  Somehow, after we got up more than two hours later, it’s almost all gone and I never saw him take a sip.

I don’t know what to think of him.  I’m sure he considers me a friend, but to me he’s more of a classmate that I got to know more by the sheer amount of time I spent in the same classes as him.   And his tenacity and my inability to avoid people.  Look, even these words sound callous to me as I type them, but if I’m not going to be honest on my own blog, where else would I be?  Anyway, we have made slightly-more-than tentative plans to meet again for coffee and I have spent the whole day kicking myself because how do you politely and smoothly avoid making plans with someone???

We may have looked a strange pair – a middle-aged white man and a young Asian woman.  The fact that I’m stating that makes me aware of my own internalised racism and sexism, but isn’t it weird that he would ask me out to coffee?  Not that this is the first time he’s tried, but the first time I’ve actually outright agreed.  But middle-aged man??? Even if my company is pleasant and he isn’t romantically interested in me, surely he would have friends that aren’t young females?  He also seems to need to wash his face and hair more frequently.

He initiated a hug three times and I felt so awkward hugging him each time.  It was kinda like if you had to hug an overly friendly uncle – on the last one his stubble even brushed against my neck  and I proceeded to mentally freak out for a moment.

Rereading everything I’ve just written, I am going to conclude that I am a spineless doormat and he is kind of creepy.


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