I am in love. It happened about three weeks ago now and I may be going out on a limb here but I think this is it- me done. Married off, ready for the three kids and a dog (5 dogs, let’s be real). I will be sure to let you all know when the wedding date is as I am sure that the proposal will be coming any day now.
I just can’t put into words all of the things she has done for me. She has brought me coffee when I needed it the most, asked me about my clothing choices and even briefly proofread an article I wrote. I am of course talking about the barista at my new favourite coffee shop who knows little more about me than my name and coffee order, that I have to periodically call home to tell my parents that I have made a grave mistake and can no longer deal with the stress that my MA brings or that I wear the same green jumper a little too often. But what more does she need to know? Coffee and that jumper are my basically my life (what a sad little life I lead).
Anyone who has survived any exam period, written a dissertation or shares my unhealthy obsession for coffee knows that you have got to get yourself a library boyfriend or a barista bae. It is the only way you will get through. Whenever I go to the library for a long session, 80% of the time is spent arguing with friends over who gets the hottest library boyfriend that day or deliberating whether today is the day that you actually make contact.
But then the bubble will be burst. They’re no longer a distraction and suddenly become a real person. You know people say, you shouldn’t meet your heroes? Well I feel like the same rule applies. That is until a couple of days ago.
So I am sat doing some magazine research, looking at dogs on Instagram and contemplating when to call my mum to tell her I’m on the edge again when coffee bae wandered over. “What are you writing there?” She asked, picking up the empty coffee cups I has accumulated over the morning. “Oh, just a writing thing”-it is my natural ability for small talk that lets me know I will get far in life…or not. “Oh cool, your jumper is from Topshop isn’t it? I saw you in it last time you were in and I think I have the same one” Oh god why is she prolonging my pain? “Yea…Topshop…” If she isn’t wooed by that I don’t know…She laughed and asked if I wanted a flat white which I took too long to answer before nodding my head, my cheeks were the colour of beetroot and I resigned myself to the fact that I should probably never leave the flat again. Next time my parents ask why I am single, I will reference this interaction.
So, the conversation was hardly ground breaking and I don’t foresee us skipping off into the sunset together but now contact has been made where do we go from here? Next time I come in am I more chatty than usual? Will she think that’s too forward? Or should I even return at all after that shit show that was supposed to be flirting? She has moved beyond the realm of fictitious ‘library boyfriends and barista girlfriends’ to become an actual person who I could talk to. For some socially capable people this would probably be seen as a good thing, progress even.
But no…I think I preferred it when I hadn’t informed her that the blog post I was writing was ‘a writing thing’ and I didn’t know that she had realised that I wear that jumper as much as I do. I have gone into full self-sabotage mode- it might be time to find a new place to get coffee. The love affair may be over.