Given that I have finally joined the three billion other people who have blogs, and that this is my first blog post, I wanted to "Pack a punch" and really write about something important and relevant to the rest of the world. After a lot of thought, I realized that I have never talked about my coffee house relationships.
I'm not quite sure when spending an ungodly amount of time in cafes became my most serious vice (next to secretly liking one or two Hanson songs for the last 13 years). It started last fall after I went back to school and found myself with a moderate amount of homework each week. Now, you have to understand that I have a hard time actually doing homework at home. It's like my room is filled with the magic poppies from The Wizard of Oz because I pass out like a drunk in the gutter as soon as I sit down.
After repeating this sleeping behavior for a while, I realized that sawing logs for 19 hours a day was detrimental to my grades. This is where my story truly begins.
I started going to this little place called Andrea Kristina's in downtown Farmington. I only went about two days a week. It wasn't serious at first, just a casual relationship, no strings attached. We got to know each other over a few months, and by the time December came around, I was attached, but they never truly had my heart.
FFWD to January 2009. I was taking 17 credit hours. It felt like I was drowning after the first two weeks. I had no choice but to live on coffee. I was still loyal to Andrea Kristina's, but cracks were beginning to show. I should have known it from the start, and deep down, I think I always did. We had different values and beliefs. I had been telling myself all along that we could make it work, but really, the only thing we had in common was that we agreed on local business, organic food, and strong ties with people. I think it was the election that did it. They talked mad crap about Sarah Palin. Started selling merchandise that praised their little savior but demonized my candidate. I realized it was the end as I sat there eating my bowl of soup. There was nothing left to say. I silently packed my books and left, never to return. Sometimes when I drive by, I am tempted to stop and have just one more cup of Pinion Roast, but I know I would regret it later.
Some people are fine by themselves. They brew away in their kitchens and are content. I'm not one of those people. I had to find a new place, and fast. You might think I jumped into the next relationship too quick, that it was a rebound, but I was desperate. It was winter time. The days were long and dark and my homework was the demon that was driving me to exhaustion.
Soon I was finding myself there almost every day. I couldn't stay away. Many snowy evenings were spent at the little table in the back corner by the window overlooking the street. I was happy. It didn't take long for the baristas to know me by sight. I'd walk in and within a minute, there waiting for me on the counter would be a steaming London Fog Tea. From that point on, I was hopelessly hooked and the relationship was serious. People started identifying us as one. They knew where to find me. I was contemplating taking the final step and having my mail forwarded. I'd gotten over the fact that it was part of a corporation. I could sacrifice some of my principles. It felt so right.
Suddenly it was April. School was hitting me like a freight train. I couldn't sleep anymore. And worst of all, Starbucks and I were in a rut. It came on slowly, but it was like the magic was slowly being extinguished from our relationship. Oh sure, I was still completely faithful, but it was starting to feel less like a sparkling slipper and more like a comfortably broken in house slipper that the dog has chewed a few too many times. Little things started to grate on nerves. They played their music too loud. I left eraser shavings all over the tables. Soon I was showing up in cold cream and curlers and they were leaving dirty socks on the floor. I needed more. It felt like we didn't even know each other anymore. It turned into a big lie, but it was easier to stay together than to face the truth.
I'm not saying I'm proud of what I did next. I didn't mean for it to happen. Like I said, I was under a lot of stress from school and work. The day came when I couldn't handle the thought of going home to mediocrity one more time. I was paying the bills. They could have at least asked how my day was going. Then it happened. I found myself sitting in my truck in the Durango Joe's Parking Lot. I felt a stab of guilt as I thought of Starbucks, but then I rememberd how Joey had mopped around me the previous day as if I wasn't even there. To them, I was just another thing in the cafe. I picked up my back pack and walked inside.
The barista greeted me with a smile and asked if I had been there before. She suggested drinks I had never heard of before. She offered fresh baked snickerdoodles. I found a window seat and felt different than I had in a long time. A week later, I was back. There's something about it that feels more at home than other places. Maybe it's that it's a locally owned, conservative leaning, American place...pretty much everything one could want.
By May, things were pretty much over with Starbucks and me, but we're still good friends. I go there maybe twice a week. After all, they know me as only an old lover can. They know how I take my coffee and how much sugar to put in my tea. We didn't have to divide our friends between us. All in all, very amicable.
I'm not saying that things with Durango Joe's have become serious yet, but I think that in time it could. They haven't filed a restraining order against me yet, so it looks promising.
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