The Open Love Letter I Gave To My Morning Barista
Dear Warby Parker-Wearing Barista,
Every day I rush down the steps of the train platform and cross the street excitedly. I enter Bow Truss Coffee and my gaze wanders until I find you. No matter how long the line or how loud the acoustic jazz, seeing you behind the counter gives me peace, my sweet coffee king.
I notice a new tattoo on your golden brown arms and my cheeks burn. “Whatcha’ havin’ today?” you say and my heart, though undercaffeinated, soars. “A medium iced coffee,” I reply coyly. This witty back-and-forth means a lot to me.
Your shaggy black hair falls in your eyes as you bend down to get ice and I long to run my fingers through each strand. You ask me, “do you take cream in that?” Wow wow wow. I’ll take it however you want me to take it, you big, bad tease.
You flawlessly pour my 16 oz. batch roast, then rigorously swipe my card in a way that makes me wonder what else you like to use with purpose and force. And then — here comes my favorite part — you hand over the cup and my body trembles as your fingers brush mine. What a wonderful intimacy we share.
And wait…is that espresso dripping from your mustache? I hope you won’t consider it too forward if I mentally lick it off with my tongue as I walk out the door.
But this is so much more than physical desire. It’s about…love. There, I said it. L-O-V-E. I’m a woman in love. Every morning continues to be my favorite hello and my hardest goodbye. I count the hours between each rendezvous, savoring every last drop of that sweet, bitter nectar. When I’m daydreaming, I swear I see your smiling face at the bottom of my empty cup. Sometimes I think about visiting you multiple times a day, but don’t because I know exercising restraint is sexy.
I just had a crazy thought: Should I order a vanilla no foam latte tomorrow? That way we can spend a little more time together. It wouldn’t have to be a big deal, we could just talk about what kind of cake we should have at our wedding while you separate the foam from my hot body (of coffee).
The bottom line is, my beautiful Barista God, is that I long to be your caffeinated goddess.
See you tomorrow,
…and the day after that, and the day after that,