There’s a real English language and a second — surreal — English language. Like:

Bump into someone you last saw in the days of John Tyler, a Virginian who was our 10th president, and hasn’t served since March 4, 1985.

Your throat burbles: “Oh, what luck! Great to run into you. We must get together.”

Yeah, right. This is Castillian b.s. Translation: “When we open a Hilton on Mars, I’ll call you.”

If you’d honestly wanted to get together, you’d already have gotten together.

Eleven years between get-togethers is not friendship-friendship-perfect blendship.

Pals fit into formulas. So stick forever to close buddies you love, and tell everything, and see constantly.

This way, when you’ve sown your seeds and your wild oats turn into all-bran and prunes, your secrets are safe. Because by then they can’t remember them either.

The second-level A-minus list are the hangers-on.

Those are needed if only to fill up that table you’re stuck with for that newly formed charity,

“Support a Sump Pump Dump for the Widowed Wildebeests of Tanganyika.”

The social set. Not only a cut or yacht above you, but even living next door your irreligious neighbor who thinks he’s God looks down on you.

Nice to give him a finger but first wiggle it in a friendly “hi.” Otherwise, when he’s entertaining Nancy Pelosi’s myopic hairdresser, you won’t be invited.

There’s the once-every-18-months B list. You feel guilty. You don’t honestly know what to do about this fringe group. In your gizzard, you wish they’d disappear. But like grease spots sent to the cleaner, they’re always with you.

These you massage with birthday flowers or free goody bag handouts.

Into every life come the criers and whiners.

Constantly needy. No friends, no luck with the grandkids, the boss hates her, the husband’s cheating, she lost her cellphone, the hairdresser’s away, her roots are showing, she needs clothes. Having once talked you into a new jacket, she’s now trying to talk you out of it. Sooner or later — mostly sooner — she needs money. Answer: “Neither a borrower nor a lender be.” It’s from Shakespeare. If not, Neil Simon.

A counterpart is the borrower. Lawn mower. DVD. Shawl.

She borrows the dress. Returns it three weeks and two parties later. Skirt’s stained, sleeve’s ripped, hem’s been shortened.

Business acquaintances? Take with a grain of salt.

Plus a slice of lemon and shot of tequila. Like dandruff on navy cashmere, you’re stuck. Use knowledge. Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit; wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad. Find some mind-altering subject to discuss. Like, does pressing buttons more than once make an elevator appear faster?

If your job’s shaky, do not get comfy.

Next day could bring the card: “Roses are red/violets are blue/The welfare office is waiting for you.”

Lumps you bump into — like a seatmate you once met on Pan Am before they lost your luggage then lost the whole airline — can be worked into a cluster. A lone 4 p.m. tea. Lunch is long. Dinner, longer. Tea’s a confined short period: tiny crustless tuna sandwich, half a pastry, two Lipton dunks, one mindless hug and — bye-bye.

Types to be avoided:

The pest. Always out for something. This season it’s a political fundraiser. Dining on leftover chicken dinners and now so big his pants have gone condo — beware.

This person will inveigle you into some Sheraton ballroom where the banners read: “Curb violence — but guns are OK.”

The jealous: You look thin. You look fat. You look like you had your face done. You look like you need your face done. Conversation: She: “Why aren’t you in a law firm.” He: “For the same reason you’re not a Rockette.”

The sleaze on the move.

If the type who blew an America’s Least Wanted segment rushes you and says he loves a woman who enjoys long walks, it only means one thing. His car was repossessed.

The hypochondriac.

He’ll bore you with: “I believed I had a fatal liver disease.

My doctor said: ‘Impossible. With that condition, there’s no discomfort of any kind.’ So I told him, ‘My symptoms exactly.’” And if it’s just an evening with your dentist? Be kind. Remember, he has fillings, too.