There is a guy here, who I’ve seen here many times before. He usually sits alone, has a beer or two, smiles and is friendly, and eventually leaves. He keeps his hair in a ponytail, has a small smattering of well-trimmed facial hair, and overall looks like a kind-hearted type. He probably surfs, has leftist leanings, and is moderately well-educated. I like him — we would probably never be friends, but I like his type, and it is nice to see him here. We’ll call him nice guy.

There’s also a girl here, who I haven’t seen around before. She has the look of being intelligent, but still trying to figure out what exactly she’s doing. She’s probably taking a somewhat alternative path in life — I suspect she writes, most likely poetry — and dealing with all that goes along with that. She had a nice cup of tea, and nursed it by herself for an hour or so, smiling at people as they came by, and generally looking shy but well-equipped for social interaction. She’s wearing a very light aqua hoodie, so we’ll call her aqua.

Nice guy is sitting at one of the four-person tables in the middle of the coffeehouse, as he often does. Aqua is sitting at one of the two-person tables up against a wall.

They eventually strike up a conversation — nice guy begins it, I think — and after a couple of minutes of verbal dancing seem to come out in favor of one another. Their body language and facial expressions become less guarded; they are opening up to each other.

I can’t really hear what they’re talking about, but I suspect it ranges broadly. Sharing anecdotes about their lives, discussing the benefits and hardships of the paths they’ve chosen. They likely mention books — or more likely, movies — as a jumping off point to discerning what manner of stuff the other is made of.

What surprises me though, as this exchange progresses, is that they stay at separate tables. Nice guy at the far end of his table, so there is a good six feet between them. Ten minutes pass and they are still craning towards each other, constantly asking for the other to repeat what they had said. Coffeehouses are loud. It’s tricky enough having a conversation with someone sitting next to you, much less at a different table. Twenty minutes pass, and they stay in their respective tables. Forty minutes eventually go by, and they’re still apart.

Their body language has opened up drastically now. Legs are crossed and facing at the other person; gesticulation is broader and more pronounced; the eyebrows of nice guy seem to dance every time she says something; their smiles are broad and full now. I wouldn’t be surprised if they went on a date. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had sex. Show me an invitation to their wedding in two weeks and I’ll yawn at this unexpected news. They like each other, it’s plain to see. The pheromones are flowing, their surface values are close enough to be palatable, and they’re both good-looking people. But they’re still six feet away from each other. Why?

I can only imagine it’s a safety mechanism. On some level, they must not be fully decided on one another. At separate tables you can easily disengage should the conversation take a surprising and distasteful turn. You’re a republican? You’re into smack? You don’t think rusted root is the greatest band of the modern age? Ah, I’ll just go back to my tea then. No harm, no foul — we weren’t even sitting at the same table.

Once you’ve joined someone, the process of disentangling yourself from them socially is much more complex. You can’t just turn back to what you were doing in your own space. After all, they’re now inhabiting your space — they are, in essence, what you’re doing. You’ve all but committed to having sex with them once you invite them to your table. So it’s a dangerous game. That social distancing is necessary to avoid any unintentional commitments.

She just got up and left. Easily, with little trouble — after all, she never truly committed to the exchange. He asked her if she wanted to hang out sometime — fishing for a number, or a date — and she skillfully noted they would no doubt see each other ‘around’ again. A perfect dismissal, uncomplicated by any sort of complications. Made so easy by a little forethought and social distancing through physical distance.

I’m never sitting at someone else’s table again.