Showing posts with label Starbucks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Starbucks. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

THE COFFEE BEAN AND THE GRAPE



I recently received some hilarious advice from a dear, dear friend:
“Men are like fine wine: They start out as grapes; and it's our job [as women] to stomp them and keep them in the dark until they mature into something you'd have dinner with.”

For every woman who is giggling and nodding her head right now, let's break this down:  

Man (Raw vine fruit) + Woman (diligent grape stomper) = Relationship (sophisticated alcoholic beverage). 

Now, the desire to refine, elevate and motivate a man feels very [natural, nurturing, maternal, feminine… in short] right.  But does this equation really add up?  And if so, are some men simply “unstompable?”

Following your advice readers, I did decide to give Barista Boy a chance.  Through a few short conversations I learned that his true passion is graphic design.  As it turns out he works free-lance doing projects for local businesses while barista-ing on the side for some extra cash. 

“Once I have enough saved up” he said “I’m goin’ back to school so I can really do it full time…  By the way, here’s your latte.”

Okay, okay… so maybe there is something deeper beneath the green apron.  But before you toast romantic optimism [Seymour!], keep reading…

We arranged to meet for a late Friday night drink.  As planned, I called him to confirm the details once my dinner let out.  But shortly after sending me to voicemail, Barista Boy informed me (via text) that he was in Connecticut.  Why?  Because that’s where “his ride” wanted to go.      

Nice Alex:  “Oh, huh… that’s happened to me.  I mean… not since high-school, but I can see it.”
Cynical Alex:  “I’m sorry---does your friend have a gun to your head?  WTF?”
My actual reply:  “No biggie, it’s getting late anyway.  I’m sure we’ll talk soon.”

I suppose he took that literally, because the following Monday…

Thirteen text messages?!   

“When R U coming to get coffee?”
“I reallu wanted to do something with you, I just have dumb friends.”
“R U mad @ me?”
“Come in to Starbux… im hear rite now”
“U can call me if u want”

Etc, etc, etc.

Is it possible that this wayward grape has the potential to become a liquid delicacy?  Sure, it’s possible… but I fear that (much like the coffee he prepares) Barista Boy may need to be ground, not stomped.

On the other side of the coin---I’ve been conversing with a 25-year-old investment banker from New Jersey.  He has a full-time job and is also up-starting his own business.  He was a runner in college and is now training for his third marathon.  He loves old music, plays jazz guitar, and isn’t too rough on the eyes either. 

This is the closest I’ve come to butterflies, readers!  Assuming he shows up for our date and is everything he says he is---this could actually be quite promising.

-BUT- if a man is already wine---does this upset the equation?  Must I be able to refine, elevate and motivate a man for the relationship to work?  Or is it possible for two people to just fit effortlessly?

We’ll see…

Thursday, February 24, 2011

WITH WHIP



My decisive online persona gave way this afternoon when I stopped into my local Starbucks. 

Amazing---I’m able to handle Giant’s rejection so rationally; yet when forced to pick one caffeinated beverage [in an alternate yuppie language] I fall to pieces.  Tall, grande, vente?  Skim, soy, whole?  Oh and to whip or not to whip?  Too many questions! 

Why [when I could just go to Dunkin’] do I put myself through such an anxiety-ridden ritual?  Four words:  My. Cute.  Barista. Boy.

I know what you’re thinking---and you’re right.  It’s shameless.

The truth is most women have some version of this creature in their lives.  Whether he runs your office deli, tends bar at your local watering hole, or pumps gas at that station down the street---he works in service, flatters you needlessly and gives you outrageous discounts---just for being you. 

“One tall, white chocolate mocha?” he asks with an omnipotent smile.
“With whip” I reply, relieved that he knows enough to suggest my default drink.

We exchange pleasantries, he charges me $1.50 and I’m on my way. 

Well---that’s how it usually goes.  However, today My Cute Barista Boy had other plans.  Today my sugary goodness would only cost me...

“My number?”
“Yeah!  I’d love to take you out sometime.”

I couldn’t believe it!  Up until this moment, I figured My Cute Barista Boy was generous to every attractive coffee drinker who didn’t verbally abuse him.  It never occurred to me that he had a genuine interest in taking me out.

“Umm, well…”

I had to gather my thoughts.  I mean, what did I really know about My Cute Barista Boy?  He’s 25 and working at Starbucks.  No college degree.  He wears an earring.  He just broke up with someone.  Online this would be an open and shut case.  But in person…

“Sure, my number is…”

What am I doing?  This is insane!  Stop, Nice Alex, Stop!  You do not date your cute barista boy.  You blush modestly as he pretends to slide your credit card through the machine! 

But it was too late.  My Cute Barista Boy had my digits.  All ten of them.

“Aight!  I’ll text you this weekend.”

Curse you, Nice Alex.  Curse you.