I have a simple philosophy in life: be nice to people and it will make you feel better. Chances are you will find people being nice to you, too. This doesn't preclude telling arseholes they are arseholes or engaging in psychological mind games to outsmart those trying to gain unfair advantage.
Twice this week, I felt disappointed as I approached the bus stop in Brixton and saw my preferred bus close its doors and start to move off; twice the drivers have opened their doors for me!
The other day I was walking near Victoria Station. There's a floor surface that is always a bit slippy when dry and slippier when wet. It was wet that day.
I was carrying several bags in my hand and perhaps my centre of gravity was just off centre. Whatever the reason, I sort of slipped and went over sideways on my ankle. If I hadn't been laden, a short discrete flailing would have been enough to right myself. Instead, I felt I was going through a slow-motion comedy wobble, surely to be followed by an ignominious tumble to the ground.
From each side of my extreme peripheral vision appeared two men, both in their twenties, both with lithe bodies, and both rather easy on the eye. Both of them held out their arms, and as I righted myself, before the embarrassing fall that never happened, they both asked if I was okay. I assured them of my okayness and thanked them for their concern. They went on their ways and I on mine.
I felt so cool, I thought, I'm a magnet, I have dashing young men rushing to my rescue. Obviously it should be them falling at my feet, or them making me go all weak and wobbly after they entered my life. But it felt good! It did occur to me later that they thought 'oh gosh that rather middle-aged and therefore ancient woman is about to have a nasty fall', but I prefer the thought that I am not invisible to attractive young men.
