I work at a community center in the same small town where I grew up. The community center has a lot of activities and classes for people of all ages. In this part of the world, people tend to be very friendly with each other, even if we don’t know each other at all.

My girlfriend grew up in a very different culture, where people generally mind their own business and don’t do things like make small talk with anyone except close friends or family. She has moved to my hometown with me but is still struggling to adapt to the overall friendliness.

She comes to the community center to pick me up for lunch. We end up walking out with an older gentleman I’ve seen a few times going into and out of a “Technology For Seniors” class but never actually talked to.

Gentleman: “Ah, what a beautiful day out!”

Me: “Yeah, it is! Good day to be working outside instead of stuck in the office.”

Gentleman: “Good thing, too — these old bones like the weather, even just for the walk out to the car.”

Me: “I hear you. If you need a hand, we’re heading out to the parking lot ourselves.”

Gentleman: “Ah, I’ll make it. Sucks to be getting old, but that’s life. I guess I can’t complain too much.”

Me: “You’re on the right side of the grass. That’s a plus on its own.”

Gentleman: “Very true!” *Gesturing to the car we’re now walking past* “This is me. You two take care now!”

Me: “You, too! Enjoy your day, and see you around next time!”

He gets in his car, and my girlfriend and I continue on to her car. After we get in, my girlfriend turns to me.

Girlfriend: “Who was that man?”

Me: “I think he’s taking a class, or maybe he’s the instructor or something.”

Girlfriend: “You mean you don’t know him?”

Me: “Not really, I guess. Why?”

Girlfriend: “You make that look so natural, talking to somebody you don’t even know.”

Me: *Laughing* “Welcome to [Town]!”

She’s getting better at the general friendliness around here, but things like small talk with random strangers are still a bit of a struggle.

About eight or so years ago, I dated a guy who ended up being a jerk. He was jealous and possessive. He didn’t start out this way, but after two months, his true self came out. 

One day, [Guy] picked me up from my house as he had done several times over the past two months. He asked if I wanted to eat at a specific restaurant because that’s where he wanted to eat, and I said yes. 

Once you leave my house and get on the main highway, it’s a straight shot to the restaurant — less than five miles. I had lived in this town my whole life, so I knew my way around. [Guy] was also very familiar with it and had no trouble finding anything before, and he had been to the restaurant several times with no issue. 

As we are driving to the restaurant, my best friend called and asked me a simple question. As I was answering her, [Guy] raised his voice.

Guy: “Don’t get me lost.”

Me: “I won’t.”

He then started pointing at random businesses including a bank, a gas station, and a grocery store, asking if that was the restaurant. 

I knew he was trying to get me off the phone, and I told my bestie I would call her later and hung up. [Guy] then suddenly remembered where the restaurant was. 

He answered calls when we were out from his friends when we were out, and I never said anything. I rarely did this unless it was one of my kids calling. 

After the meal, I was ready to go back home immediately as [Guy] had made comments about my bestie taking up too much of my time throughout dinner. He pouted and whined. He said that I didn’t need friends; I had him.

My road at the time was pretty simple to find; there was a fire station at the end of the road and you couldn’t miss it. 

On the way home, [Guy] purposefully turned too soon on another road. I let him know he had turned on the wrong road. He ignored me and kept going. At that point, I was frustrated with this guy.

Finally, after a few miles, he acknowledged that he had turned down the wrong road.

Me: “There’s a gas station coming up on the right; you can turn around there.”

[Guy] drove right past it and decided to turn into the police station parking lot. He then decided to drive behind the building and past the sign that said, “No admittance — authorized vehicles only.” I pointed out the sign before he drove past, but again, he ignored me. I was freaked out that an officer would come out and we would be arrested or something. Luckily, nothing happened. 

On the drive home, he continued to complain that my job was in the way, and he started in about my kids, who were also taking up too much of my time, and how it was unfair to him that we couldn’t see each other every day.

I was furious but kept quiet, and I broke things off with him the next day.

Me: “You need to find a woman with no job, kids, or friends if you want someone to spend every minute of every day with. I have a life outside of you!”

He stalked and harassed me after that. It took a restraining order to get him to stop! I later found out I wasn’t the only one.

I had researched him before we went out and found nothing on him. That was because he had lived in another state for a short time before moving back to the neighboring town. He had been dishonest about where he had lived previously. 

I am now married to a police officer, and I live in another state far away from this creepy guy.

In an attempt to not be a fat b*****d, I got a treadmill. And at first, I was extremely strict about using the treadmill! I used it for thirty minutes a day, every single day, before breakfast.

One day, I had some extra energy and decided to burn it off by doing an extra hour on my treadmill that evening. The next day, my feet were a bit sore. I figured my extra hour had given me a bit of “credit”, so I could give them a day to rest. They were still sore the next day, so I gave them a bit more rest. They were still sore the day after that, but I had run out of “credit”, so I tried to “power through” and did a gentle walk on the treadmill. They were even more sore the next day.

It turned out that I had developed plantar fasciitis because I wasn’t using proper arch support. In fact, I was using NO arch support; I was running on the treadmill wearing only socks. So, it turned out that repeatedly slamming an extra hundred-plus pounds more than a body was designed to carry with no arch support was actually a bad idea.

For the next few months, my feet hurt just ALL THE TIME because of stretching and tearing in my plantar fascia. There is no way to really treat plantar fasciitis faster than just letting your body heal itself; all you can do is manage the symptoms and not make it worse.

One day, I’m at my girlfriend’s place, and I’ve spent the night. She is fully aware of my fasciitis. At some point in the morning, I need to get up off the couch, and I make a sound of pain.

Girlfriend: “Wait, your feet hurt?”

Me: “Yes, they hurt all the time.”

Girlfriend: “But you haven’t been on your feet at all today!”

Me: “Yes. They hurt all the time.“

Girlfriend: “But you’ve been on the couch all day!”

Me: “Yes. They hurt all the time.“

Girlfriend: “I mean, this is the first time you’ve even stood up today!”

Me: “Yes. They hurt ALL THE TIME.”

After six months, I was finally able to actually walk again. And now, I own a pair of proper athletic shoes — brand-name and everything.

I’m a young male working behind the counter of a well-known clothing store. A young woman walks up with who I assume is her boyfriend since he’s got an arm around her.

Me: “Hi. How can I help—”

Before I can even finish, she grabs the guy by the collar and begins hardcore making out with him, all with overly nasty, wet noises and sloppy tongue action that I feel like I would expect from a comedy flick. I stand there dumbfounded, trying to figure out what’s going on. She then finishes and nearly pushes the guy off. She turns to me and gives me a very smug look. And I’m just wishing she would wipe her face.

Woman: “See? That’s how a real man kisses his girlfriend!”

Me: “Uh… okay?”

Woman: “Bet you wish you were him, huh?”

Me: “I’m sorry, did you need help with anything?”

Woman: *Gives an exaggerated scoff* “Please! I have him now! I don’t need you anymore!”

Me: “Do I… Do I know you or something?”

She’s about to say something but stops and begins staring at me with a puzzled look. She looks down at my name tag and goes bright red. She whispers something to her boyfriend and then quickly runs off, leaving us both in awkward silence.

Guy: “So, uh… She mistook you for her ex and forced me to come in here and make him jealous. I guess she saw you yesterday while shopping and was certain you were him. To be fair you do look a lot like him.”

Me: “I see…” *Motioning to his chin* “You got a little something there.”

Guy: *Wiping his face with his hand* “Thank you.”

He walked away awkwardly. I decided it was time to take my break.

As a general rule, “food delivery didn’t turn up” makes for a statistic more than an interesting story, but this one really buttered my biscuits because, out of absolutely nowhere, my ADHD diagnosis got dragged into it. This story also mentions a well-known symptom of ADHD called hyperfixation, which is actually two things: flow state, which is where you’re doing something challenging that is interesting, and perseveration, which is where you focus on something to the exclusion of other things.

This story takes place not long after the anonymised popular worldwide illness was becoming unfashionable. Working from home and takeout were both common. Due to unfortunate circumstances that I won’t go into, my home office also contained my girlfriend’s desk, and therefore, often her phone when it was charging. I was working some odd hours because I live in the UK and the bulk of my team operated out of the Bay Area in the US. I had meetings with my coworkers between 5:00 and 6:00 pm, and my girlfriend’s work officially finished at 4:00 pm, so that window was when we usually timed dinner.

One day, we were doing our “Friday takeout” household tradition, born from my company’s £25-a-week support-your-local-eatery expense allowance. We commonly ordered from a company that sounds like somebody jammed the words “delivery” and “kangaroo” together and lost a few characters in the process. Yeah, “Kangarivery”, exactly. We could order from a range of eateries via Kangarivery, and we scheduled one well in advance (for 4:00 to 4:30 pm).

One of the great features of Kangarivery is that you can watch your delivery driver as they approach, so I was tracking the imminent Kangarivery delivery (or perhaps I should say “Kangariverlivery”).

I watched the delivery driver on the map. He stopped on the road outside my block of flats and waited there for a couple of minutes. Then, he buggered off. “That’s strange,” I thought.

“Did the doorbell ring and I didn’t hear it?” you may ask, and no, it didn’t. And I know this because some days I can barely concentrate for being pulled away from my desk all day due to constant doorbell-ringing deliveries (one of the few legitimate anti-WFH arguments).

I went outside to see if the driver was coming back. Then, I observed that the order had been cancelled. My girlfriend had come out to join me, looking equally quizzical, and I confirmed with her that she had not collected the food already when I wasn’t looking.

This was already low-key annoying, as is any process where somebody just kind of doesn’t follow the process and leaves you with work to do, but now we get to the part which really tiddles my weasel. My girlfriend had a missed call from her phone which was charging on her desk (next to my desk). She proceeded to inform me that the reason I didn’t hear it go off was because of my ADHD, and I must have been hyperfixating on my work or something.

Me: “What’s your ringtone set to?”

Girlfriend: *Silence*

Me: “I ask because if it’s at a low volume or sounds like a lorry reversing in the petrol station next door, that might explain why I didn’t notice it go off.”

Girlfriend: “I don’t know!”

I let it go because I didn’t want to fight with her, despite how infuriated I was with the fact that my ADHD was somehow to blame for the fact that the delivery driver was allergic to doorbells.

I confirmed that the order had been cancelled and I had still been charged for it, and I got in touch with support. The conversation was longer but boiled down to this.

Kangarivery Support: “The delivery driver called but could not get through.”

Me: “Why didn’t they ring the doorbell?”

Kangarivery Support: “They didn’t ring the doorbell?”

Me: “They did not.”

Kangarivery Support: “One moment, please…”

A moment passed.

Kangarivery Support: “We’ll have your order resent to you.”

And so it was that we eventually received our lukewarm order at around 6:15 pm in the evening, almost two hours after the scheduled delivery, because the rider was allergic to doorbells. The fact that somehow my ADHD got dragged into someone else’s inability to follow a simple process is the reason why, to this day, despite all our modern technology, I wander into the street awaiting my Kangarivery like some kind of caveman trying to tell time by the moon, and why this story still really apples my pears.