Love stories from my coffee blog

Looking through my old coffee blogs, I see a favorite topic is "love," although I certainly don't write often on that topic, I write so much, it does come up. Here are some favorites.

Boyfriend in the coffee shop (Nov. 27, 2004)

What a surprise when a college boyfriend stepped into the coffee shop that morning. Maybe five or ten pounds heavier, but the goatee and quiet mannerisms were the same--the standing back to assess the situation, about 5 '10", smiling bright gray/blue eyes glancing around, and wispy dishwater blonde hair peeking out from under a baseball cap. Closing my book, I stood up to put on my coat and noticed he was gone.

Carrying my paper coffee cup to the counter to add a little cream before leaving, I realized he was standing next to me at the condiments while waiting for his order. He said to the clerk, "Thanks for your help." That voice. Yes, it was him. Definitely him. I wanted to watch to see if his sports car was in the parking lot.

Of course, it couldn't possibly be him, common sense whispered in my ear. After all, the former sweetheart is older than me and lives in another state. The young man standing there was perhaps twenty five--young enough to be my grandson. But for a moment . . . I wanted to kick him in the knee.

Romancing the coffee bean (Nov. 20, 2004)

She came in the coffee shop today. I hadn't seen her for maybe four or five years. A single mom with the stress of a teen-age daughter with too much mascara and a sullen younger boy. They occasionally were with her on school holidays, pretending they didn't know each other. We spoke briefly and caught up--she's working in a different suburb now, having coffee at another place.

A finish carpenter also stopped by in those days. A fun guy with a twinkle in his eye. We always chatted. Another woman used to call him "the stud muffin" after he left--always a little swagger, full of himself, but oh so in love with his metallic cherry red pick-up truck.

He started chatting up Ms. Lonely Mom. Soon he was walking her to her car, as though it wasn't safe for a woman at 7:45 a.m. in Upper Arlington to walk alone through a coffee shop parking lot. Then one day I saw him kiss her at her car door as he opened it. Oh, so gallant.

That's the last time I saw him. She continued to come in, anxiously watching the door and parking lot. Maybe she was just too needy. Maybe he saw the children. Or maybe he found another coffee shop.

Dump him, Honey (Nov. 15, 2004)

She was the morning, cheery, part-time, counter assistant when I first met her at the coffee shop. An English major. We joked she was going to write the “great American novel.” She was excited about graduating from college, and even took some time off in June 2003 to travel to New York to check into grad school.

I’ve stopped asking her about her plans. She now has an official store name tag. She has a title. And responsibilities. Doesn’t smile as much. She, or her parents, probably spent $70,000 on her education and she is figuring schedules, taking complaints about spilled coffee, ordering supplies, training new college students to take orders and doing quality checks.

Some mornings I see her making furtive phone calls before 6:30 on her cell phone. The smile and bouncy step are gone. I suspect she has settled. She hasn’t settled for marriage instead of career or grad school--the way my generation might have done in the 60s. She’s not even a fiancée. No, I suspect it is “significant-otherhood.” Or maybe just shacking up, with no commitment beyond next week-end.

Dump him, honey. Move on. He doesn’t deserve your talent and sense of humor. Chase your dream. There’s plenty of time later for guys who will waste their lives and yours sleeping in.

And then there was Joey (April 28, 2005)

"The only guy I ever lived with was Mike," she said while sweeping the floor, "and oh yeah, Joey." Her co-worker said, "Joey is Joey." She nodded and said something I couldn't hear. And then the conversation moved on to bowling.

A Poem--Stranger in the Coffee Shop
May 18, 2005

One by one
She whispers to me
mistakes of 1981

leaving college, of course,
and early marriage
with babies, diapers and divorce.

One by one
She outlines for me
her new goals, no fun,

tired and sinking under masses
of expectations,
while taking night classes.

One by one
She arranges her thoughts
because romance has begun,

wearing a skimpy sweater
that would have fit a child
who probably knows better.

One by one
She counts her blessings
eating a cinnamon bun,

while sitting by the fire
with the man who’s joined her
touching her hand with desire.

One by one
she flicks her dreams
in the morning sun

into the fireplace flame
and tosses her head
with no one else to blame

Southwest? (June 14, 2006)

Today I saw a bright pink notice on Panera's bulletin board:

"SW Christian Upper Arlington Mom, 40s and her 2 fabulous sons would like to meet a similar super nice UA Dad."

My mind wasn't in gear, so instead of "single white" I was thinking "southwest." I was trying to figure out where southwest Upper Arlington was.

I hope she finds someone. Probably too old for my advice on how not to marry a jerk.

Former neighbor (June 1, 2006)

We often see each other across the room at the coffee shop and wave. He was our neighbor about 25 years ago--he and his gorgeous third wife. Then they divorced and it was he and his fourth wife--much younger and also quite attractive. They moved after their first baby, who I think is in college now. They too are divorced, and I'm not sure where he lives, but he doesn't look any different. Marriage keeps you young, I suppose. All that adjusting.

Meeting an old friend (Nov. 17, 2006)

He stopped at my table today and spoke. I'd seen him come in with his two young children, but the face didn't ring a bell. Then when he spoke it all came back. We'd gone out to eat together and some parties with others in the building trades before they were married. My husband was his architect, and he'd known the wife professionally also when she worked for an interior designer. We'd attended their fabulous wedding on Lake Erie maybe 10 years ago. He and the kids, who were dressed in scarlet and gray for the big game, sat next to me close to the fireplace and we caught up. Then he leaned over and said, "I'm a single dad now." I looked at those adorable kids--maybe 6 and 3, and just felt sick.