Finishing off brunch I looked up to see a familiar face and froze. My heartbeat was already through the roof from the fourteen-espresso-shots-in-a-cup this café liked to call coffee and this sighting wasn’t helping by a long-black lot.

You see the last time I’d spoken to this familiar face was on Facebook chat where he virtually spat at me “Found anyone to f*ck yet?” Well that’s not very nice is it. Must say the conversation with this ‘friend’ stopped right there – and come year and a half later across the other side of the world and look who is spreading butter that wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

I’m back living in a city that’s crawling with people I’ve had fallings out with. No-one told me when I was younger this becomes a cruddy part of adult life. And yes finding old foes happened in London too. Umm this is Europe – you’re not supposed to be here. But Melbourne is smaller and when it comes to chances of bumping into these bruised egos and bitchy girls the stakes are higher than a Eureka tower sky deck.

One of the slightly alarming things returning home after a long stint overseas is you can wander past unnoticed by absolutely everyone. It’s bizarre. People haven’t seen you for a few years – therefore they’re not going to place you walking down Bourke street wearing jeans in their suit clad community. Worked with that receptionist for four years? Walk straight past. Made out with that guy most Friday nights? Walk straight past. It’s great! It’s like being a Ninja but with Heathrow injection and Topshop attire.

So I’m 31 and I’ve had a few disagreements with people over the years – hasn’t everyone? However, since middle-twenties and emotional maturity hit I’ve done my best to pick up the phone, find them on Facebook and apologise and chat like ‘Hey we don’t wear orange or reflectors now, it’s all in the phat-pants-past’.

But there’s also ‘ex-friends’ I wouldn’t pour VB on if they were on fire from firecrackers at a full moon party. (Ok I probably would because that happened to me and it smelt like burnt hair and sweet Breezers.) If someone has upset me enough to shed tears – well, stuff them. If they really can’t find that apology button or swallow some I’m-wrong humble pie then why give them the chance to do it all over again? I will never understand people who stay friends with ‘friends’ who treat them terribly. There are so many other people out there just waiting to be met, laughed with and have beer spilt on. And living in London certainly blew out of the Thames water any worry I had about making good friends again.

I guess I can’t keep moving cities to avoid these butter-melting-men and whipped-cream-women, I’ve learned a friendly smile and wave sends them on their way. And besides, I like the cardiac-coffee in this city way too much to leave.

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