I can't decide - predictability vs. forced multiple personality disorder?

I need to get out of the dorms.

Paying for my ritual banana, apple, and nalgene-water-refill at the food court this morning, the woman working the cash register absentmindedly pointed at my bottle and asked:"Water or Soda?"
... before I could finish saying "water", she looked at my face.
"Oh! It's you!"
A beaming smile as she rang up "water".
"I should have known - just a little tired this morning."

... to my credit, I gave her a friendly smile, and returned the favor when she wished me a "good day" after finishing paying for my "usual morning order".

.... people have "usual morning orders" at their favorite diners... they have "usual" drinks at bars, they have "usual" birthday cakes (or maybe that's just my family), they have "usual" restaurants that they frequent... and yet, I can't think of anyone else who is on speaking terms with the older women who've worked at the Wright Food Court for... well, longer than I've been here.

There's the woman who works weekday evenings - she tells me almost every time I get dinner that she's glad to see that someone eats fruits and veggies.

There's the nice lady - I think from Eastern Europe originally - that reminds every other person in line to weigh their salads... but asks me how I eat them so often without getting bored.

Usually seen in the morning, there is the woman who looks like she could be grouchy... and then she laughs, and you realize her grandchildren must *adore* her jokes. ..... however, she's more prone to frown at you if you take too long to get out your meal card.
.... then your blood runs cold.

Finally, let's not forget the above mentioned morning fruit ringer-upper... J. has gone through the line so often with me now - with his own ritual breakfast items - that she merely has to see our smiling faces approaching to correctly - down to number of fruit items - add up a total.

My Eat Wright Buddies Group does not exclude men. I have lived two and a half years in the dorms... it had better not. I became running buddies with one of the managers there last winter. He saw me - sweaty and gross in my running gear - so often, grabbing dinner post-run, that we began to trade workout and training tips. He got engaged a month or so ago - I think he told me before it became official on Facebook.
.... and hey - today... (somewhat unfortunately) - that feels like a big deal.

Oh - and last (for today, and certainly not least) - the guy who works mostly at the salad bar. (Can you tell that salad is a common theme here?) I don't even know his name, but after mistaking me for one of his bosses, we've hit it off and have been food court friends ever since. He knows that I play bass and get a little worried about performances, and I know that he works full time and can't wait to get home for the holidays. In some odd, dorm-bubble shaped way, we look out for each other.

What amazes me is that I have seen some of these people outside of the Food Court - funnily enough, I saw one in a grocery store.
... heck, that got a chuckle out of me.

However - with the exception of the grocery store escapade - seeing them out of context... out of uniform, out of their cash register domains... its as if we have never met. I remember who they are, but perhaps the lack of tray, nalgene, and multiple pounds of greenery make it difficult for them to remember me. The grocery store incident, I believe, is different only because we were still surrounded by food, and I had multiple vegetables in my cart. I can't help but wonder, then, if they would still be able to pinpoint my identity if I went through the line with a few slices of pizza and a big ol' bowl of ice cream.
... in a way, it makes me a little ... well... sad. The Wright Food Court is not their life, it is not who they are, but that is all I'll ever know about them. And - just as my salads do not define me (God, I hope they don't) - that may be all that they find of interest about me.

And, on that note - if I finally left the dorms... moved into my buddie's apartment... did all of my main shopping at the local grocery store / co-op, and took a dorm food hiatus (hiatus = break from dorm fare as coma = nap)...
... if I came back just one last time... and loaded up my tray with all sorts of fruits and veggies... broke out the nalgene... and went back to the same cash registers...
... well... would it be as if I never left?

... or would I finally need to look for a new "usual" as they'd struggle with the idea that they'd seen me before, somehow, somewhere.

short (and stupid)

You know, it has never really occurred to me that relationship issues are fixable.
Well - no, that's not true. I figured that they had to be, given that many other people seem to do it pretty easily.

[clarification]: *my* relationship issues have never seemed fixable. Usually, I'm spiraling through extreme scenarios and outcomes in my imagination as opposed to "imagining" that two people could logically work through a rough patch. Most of the time those scenarios involve weaponry ("A duel to the .... well, not the death, but if I win, we still go out!" "It'll never work [sob sob], I've trained far too hard and I'm far too competitive... I knew that we were never meant to be!" "... You could let me win!" "I don't know how!") or at least, some sort of soap opera 'last-phrase-to-say-before-you-get-out-of-earshot': "The aliens knew I was incapable of love!"

It was kind of anti-climatic, actually. The talking and logic thing. I was maybe expecting lightning to strike, at least.
"Oh, ____! My sudden near-death experience makes me realize that talking this out with you is more imperative than ever!"

Huh.

But, hey - we all have to be wrong sometimes!

ps: Ben, it works!