I sat down by the window slowly sipping my coffee. I stole a glance at my watch, I was early. I didn’t mind though, a coffee shop is as good a place to wait as any. I can spend hours on end at a coffee shop, just sitting and observing people. It’s funny how much diversity a simple cup of coffee can attract. Stressed out of your mind? Grab a coffee. Loving life? Grab a coffee. Need inspiration? Grab a coffee. Falling in love?…. Well, you get the point.
I like to see myself as a storyteller of sorts, and I’m always looking out for a good story. Everyone’s got a story, you just got to find it. But, inspiration is a slippery friend and does as it pleases. Every writer has this great vision about writing in their head that is the stuff of fantasy; they see themselves going down to a quaint little roadside cafe, getting a table by the bustling street, sipping a hot cup of coffee and seeing the world pass by them, channel their inner Dickens into the Macbook in front of them. I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t tried this fantastical routine numerous times and I’d be lying even more if I said that it works. There is this small matter that gets in the way; distraction.
I’ll have my laptop open in front of me, have the perfect playlist lined up but I’ll end up getting distracted by the couple sitting behind me, or the college kids to my right or the baby in his pram on the other side of the street. For instance, the other day I overheard a girl telling her friends the gunshots she heard when she was walking in the park and the trauma she had after it, or the guy getting advice from his friends on whether “Sarah” likes him or not or the man talking on the phone, trying to convince his wife that he would be home in 10 minutes. How am I expected to get any writing done if I have such human emotion a tangible distance away from me?
Next time you’re in line for your Espresso, plug out your earphones and just listen to the conversations around you. Trust me.
Okay, so my bottom line to this whole rant is that I didn’t mind waiting at the coffee store. The nerves could have had something to do with my incredible punctuality. I’d met a ton of men at coffee stores before but none that I was so nervous and yet so anxious to meet.
I’d done my homework on him, stalked his Facebook profile thoroughly, gone through the first couple of links that popped up on Google and had even briefly gone through his Linkedin account. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just that if I could find shades of myself in him. If I could see myself fitting into his life or not.
My mother was the one who put us in contact, so you can understand the inhibitions I had.We had messaged each other back and forth a bit but it’s incredibly hard to completely be yourself on text, especially when your mother wants to see every single message! So you can understand why this meeting in person had me so nervous. The usual questions started to run through my mind. Will he be different in person? What will we talk about? Is he as funny in person also? And did he really do that Everest trek or was that picture just for likes? Can’t believe that his Facebook likes are what’s going on in my mind right now. But, that’s just me, I can’t do too much of this emotion and feelings. My heart doesn’t do too much aside from pump blood.
I stole another glance at my watch. He was 20 minutes late. The anticipation was killing me. The cafe had no wifi, so I opened up my phone and started browsing through my gallery. I had told him I’d be wearing a yellow top ( “who wears yellow in winters?” my mother had sighed in frustration) so he shouldn’t have any problem spotting me.
I had scrolled right up to my pictures from March when I felt a light tap on my shoulder
” Rose?”
“Yes?”
“Hi, I’m John.”
” Hi, how are you? Would you like me to call you John or do you prefer Dad?”
