On Coffee aka- She Loves me (for my WIFI)
A brief introduction, friends- This week we have a very special guest blogger, a fantastic writer and best girl around. She is the expert on dating and my favourite single girl. This week she addresses a very interesting topic we have been discussing, which I think you may relate to........
There is a point in your thirties when all your friends are coupled or have kids that a single lady finds herself with a lot of time on her hands.
Don’t get me wrong, we old.
I’m tired by nine and the days of recovery I require after a night out proportionally match the number of glasses of wine I consume. I dig that we can now chill after work instead of having to play the “do-I-put-jogging-pants-on-while-I-wait-until-its-cool-enough-o’clock-to-go-out” and I’ve never eaten so many proper meals in my life. But there are still days when I want to hang, yet babies are crying, relationships are being mediated or people are at Ikea. Seriously, y’all in cohabitating couples spend a lot of time at Ikea.*
On these days I find myself at coffee shops; reading or writing, but mostly staring aimlessly while I debate why using the line “just don’t waste my time” is really such a deal breaker for men. Over the course of the last few years, the third wave coffee movement has gained considerable attention in our fine city. In fact, there is now so much coffee choice that a recently opened shop on The Main introduced an “infidelity card” – a loyalty card that encourages you to cheat on your local.
From this growth comes a new phenomenon, simply summarized as the rise of “The Barista Rockstar” and will be here on defined as “TB 2.0”. Why TB 2.0? Easy. Growing up “The Bartender” (aka TB 1.0) was the Rockstar of our scenes. Going to rave jungle nights at the local dive wasn’t really on our priority list because the music was great (let’s face it, our bedroom DJ friends could barely hold a mix), but because we were all in love with the bartender.
Somewhere in between then and now, the TB 1.0 obsession died down enough to give rise to TB 2.0. I’ve seen this trend sweep across my lady friends as if we all caught a plague. Recently I got an 8am text from a preggo friend all in caps that exclaimed “OMG IS (name withheld) THE ONE THAT (description withheld) CAUSE I TOTALLY JUST GIGGLED LIKE A SCHOOL GIRL AND HID MY BABY BUMP”. Let’s recap that quickly: my pregnant friend hid her baby bump from the hot barista because she just couldn’t.
Baristas will tell you that their game is tough because the amount of time they can spend with their attractive patrons is limited to max three minutes and is always scrutinized by the clients to which they are not giving no three minutes. To this claim I would counter the following top five reasons baristas are the new and improved Rockstar, and why us ladies want to bang them all (or at least spend our a small fortune keeping your shops in business so that we can have our three minutes). Seriously, I have eaten ramen noodles some weeks so that I could keep my coffee budget, so it’s only fair that y'all owe us at least one sex for that.
#1 – YOU SEE US AT OUR WORST
Though we will usually doll up before we walk in the door (read: re-apply that lip gloss), the true fact is that at one point or another, that hot barista will see us at our worst, be it physically or emotionally. Coffee and coffee shops will never stop being a place where we go to seek comfort: either alone in the form of a latte or with a friend for a good ol’ gossip sesh.
Although we like to think we got your schedules down pat, y’all manage to do things like swap shifts. This means that at some point you’ll have to politely tell me that lip gloss I re-applied is all over my teeth, or you’ll see me in the middle of an interpretative dance to my married pregnant friends on why I just can’t get my shit together.
Why does this matter? When you see us at our worst it makes us like you more. We think, “Hey, if he still acknowledges me after seeing x y z, then maybe he thinks I’m a unicorn!” We like that you still talk to us after we have a meltdown or in our sweat pants at 7AM, because we forget that you’re obligated to take our money in exchange for the goods / service you just gave us.
#2 YOU KNOW OUR WEAK SPOTS
Moving past seeing us at our worst, you hear our worst. You get the stories of the fuck boy that will text us just as we’re moving on and you know about our bad dates because, hell, you’ve probably seen them go down in action. Recently I had to endure a bad date take thirty minutes to explain to me how I could meditate to bring gratitude into my life, complete with breathing instructions and a full body scan (barf). I cannot tell you how many times I made desperate, please-come-spill-a-drink-all-over-me-so-I-can-get-the-fuck-out-of-here eyes to the barista. By the end of my date’s instructions, the barista knew the depth of my soul from our shared glances. He also now knows that I hate pretentious, yoga douchebags and can likely win my heart forever if he told me to “drink my coffee while ensuring that my lips give thanks for the Arabica coffee bean” the next time I am in. Let me break this down even simpler: y’all got very specific instructions on exactly how to game us, FROM US, cause we’re stupid.
But mostly cause we’re stupid.
We don’t solve our problems by slamming six shots of tequila anymore because, goddamit, I don’t have single friends anymore. More importantly, post your twenties, men trying to liquor you up to get you down just ain’t so hot anymore. By this point we all have had our fair share of bad decisions to know well enough that the guy buying you rounds of Jamieson isn’t really that concerned with your well-being as much as he’s concerned with how much it will take you to blow him while he films it. Giving a gal a free coffee on a bad day is like stopping her on the street to tell her she’s beautiful in a totally charming way. We don’t expect it, and we are gonna lurve you for it.
#4 YOU MAKE US LATTE ART HEARTS
And because really, we just can’t when you do that and you know it. Can you make a heart in tequila shots?
You can also call us by name in an establishment we can audibly hear you in, and we don’t have to fight a million bitches just to get served. Most days.
You talk to us about coffee, whether it’s in your three minutes or less, on slow days, or via your incredibly well curated Instagram account that I promise we don’t stalk. You know your shit and you take the time to share it. Your knowledge of the beverage world extends beyond how to make a vodka soda, so we see your job as a legitimate career choice and not just party town. And everyone knows we gonna crush on you all that much more because we want someone with their shit moderately together (i.e. holds a daytime job).
So there you have it. To all the ladies out there wanting to crush on their locals all night, keep crushin’ (yeaaaaaah!).
To all the baristas out there, wake up and work your game.
Until you ignore me to serve the cute twenty three year old for an extra minute past designated three.
Then imma cut you, give me my caffeine.
*Disclaimer- Not ALL coupled people spend time at IKEA, Costco, and/or Walmart. I avoid all such establishment like the plague.... but I DO love the IKEA hotdogs.
