I was accosted just now in the cafeteria here at work; a rather odd young woman came up to me while I was looking at some new brand of energy drink called “lost.” I wondered aloud if the world really needed a beverage for fans of a TV show about people and polar bears stuck on a tropical island, and this woman decided I was her new bestest buddy.

She started asking me all kinds of nutritional and relationship questions and wondered what she should drink if she was too nervous to eat and feeling all quivery from adrenaline.

“Um, not a drink with a lot of caffeine. I’d probably have one of those nutritional breakfast shake things from the little Kwik-ee Mart down the hall.”

She went on talking about being totally in love while I smiled, nodded, and kept track of where the sandwich guy was in the process of building my BLT, while I was stuck over by the bevvy coolers. I noted an oddity; the young woman had a nasty horizontal scar on her face, right from the corner of her mouth. Actually, if I was a guy she was interested in, I’d be thinking “stalker” about then. She seemed altogether too fixated on the fact that she’d started a relationship at all, let alone one that only let her get 4 hours of sleep a night.

Finally, I was able to break away with the excuse that my sandwich was ready. I have no idea why this woman thought I, a rather too well-nourished pear-shaped type, would be qualified to advise her about her eating issues.

Okay, whatever. I was all “I have to go now,” in the end. It was just that odd. There might have been something clinical going on, but I’ll definitely be avoiding any further encounters, no matter how brief.