Sex in a Coffee Shop
I hate coffee. I really do.
I have a part-time job during the school year. I work at Mondragon, the 'little political bookstore and vegan restaurant' conveniently located in the heart of Winnipeg's Exchange district. I use the word 'convenient' soley because it near the bus routes, mind you, working there isn't really all that convenient, especially with all the crazy hours they've been giving me lately. My friends also find it a convenient place to satisfy their caffeine urges and argue for the benefits of socialism. But as I said, I hate coffee.
It's not a bad place to work, I'll give it that. Good ambience, friendly co-workers...you just have to get used to dealing with a few 'odd' folks once in a while. And as I said, I work in a place governed by 'anarchist and libertarian socialist principles', so you know that when I say 'odd', I mean ODD. Once a guy came in completely naked and tried to convert me to some whacked-out 'minimalist' religion. It didn't so much bother me that he completely ignored our 'no shirt, no shoes, no service' sign, it just astounded me because it was f***ing January! In Winnipeg! Poor dude had to be freezing! But yeah, we get alot of crazies in here.
And then sometimes, we get the extremely normal type. Like Jen. She walked in last week, though I didn't know her name back then.
She caught my eye instantly, wearing one of those puffy sleeveless vests, the kind that are all the rage with the girls right now, with a cuddly sweater underneath that matched perfectly with her blue eyes and Guess jeans that hugged her in all the right places. She looked damn hot. It was one of those moments where my instinct battled my brain, and my brain lost. I handed over her coffee without a single mention of the slave labor that went into making those jeans. I was ummm....yeah. You know.
I watched her take her coffee over to the other side of the room, blatantly ignoring "please refrain from consuming coffee in this area" sign just two inches above her head. But then again, I'd never seen her there before, so maybe she really didn't notice the small mahoghany plaquard with its elegant gold writing. I know I hadn't the first time I'd come in, it really does blend in with the rest of the wood, it's that finely made.
I got my brain back, decided I'd take the initiave and go talk to her.
"Umm, miss? Your not really supposed to have coffee over here, just so you know."
"Oh." A single word, uttered with embarrassment as her cheeks turned a mild pink. I guess she hadn't seen the sign.
"Yeah, sorry about that. They created that rule when I spilled whipped cream over one of the books over there."
She turned to look where I was pointing.
"Really?" she laughed. I was pointing to the 'Sexuality' corner.
"Well, no," I admitted, "but you've got to admit that would be a little embarrassing."
"Just a little," she replied smiling.
"I can sit with you if you'd like some company while you finish your cup," I offered, "my shift is basically done for the night."
"Alright," she agreed.
I won't bother to bore you with the details of what we discussed that night. We talked about everything, from authors to politics to my absolute distaste for coffee. And the crazy thing was, I actually enjoyed it. We had nothing in common, our lives and views completely at odds, and yet, we were able to hold a civilized conversation and completely enjoy each other's company. I ended up walking her to her car at the end of the night, and she promised to call me on the weekend.
Oh, and by the way, I love coffee.