Biding with Baristi

“Bide a while in a coffee bar. Who do you see? What thoughts are being thought? Where do these thoughts go? Imagine … And to think it’s only a coffee bar …”

~Inexplicable and inspiring quotation on the wall of Coffee Republic in Oxford, UK

I tend to fall for my baristi.

I think it’s because they’re there for me in my most vulnerable moments — when I’m stumbling through that bleary morning haze, thirsting for energy — gently asking if I would like one shot or two. When I’m blind with sleep, the cute boy with the quirky hat and the expert hand plying the lever that pours black gold just looks so sexy.

There was the aforementioned burly, musically tattooed barista. There was another scrawny, scrappy also musically tattooed barista — perhaps the only bearded man I’ve ever loved. And there’s the hot boy at the Tea Lounge, who undercharged me on purpose I’m sure.

One day a barista startled me into giving him my number by informing me that I reminded him of his psychology teacher. A week later I saw him at another coffee shop and we walked down the street and had lunch, during which we swapped astrological signs, after which he told me that he saw the earth in his sister’s brown eyes and the sky-blue in mine. And the sky, he added, has no end.

I was about to tell him that I saw the burnished coffee beans of Ecuador in his. Then I remembered that his was the exact poetic crap my father always told me not to listen to, and I reflected that the list of free wi-fi spots, unlike the sky, is not endless and that if I dated and dumped my baristi I might very well come to the end.

So instead I said, “Well … thanks!” And resolved henceforth to love baristi from afar.

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~ by stultiloquence on June 4, 2008.

6 Responses to “Biding with Baristi”

  1. The fact that your dad has warned you about poetic crap partially worries me, due to the fact I have a liking for poetic crap, and comforts me, for I suck at poetic crap so it usually comes off as a joke

  2. Here you write your strong desires to be married, but when a nice boy talks about your eyes, you turn him down. At least go on a date with a nice guy!

    -R

  3. Ohh that hurts. I did go out with him! And he was nice, but not saved. You’re probably right. This post was cruel and I kind of regret it.

  4. This post was not cruel. Just about the wiles of dating in the big city. And it inspired a lot of disturbing comments at dinner at my cousin’s house last night. Get-Nate-A-Date is going to borrow those lines about eyes.

  5. p.s. there were some darn fine men at my favorite hipster coffee shop today. it’s close to where i’m moving in september. helllooooooo neighbor with unstoppable blue eyes! [maybe i will tell him that his lattes are like the earth and his eyes are like the sky…]

  6. More on baristi. I’m kind of in love with this one cute smiley barista. But yesterday I was walking down the street and passed him without his cute quirky hat on, and he was just not as cute. Another reason not to see baristi out of coffee shops.

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