I was at one of my favourite breaky haunts (regular readers will guess). One of these cool Melbourne mornings that a prelude to a very cold winter where the real coffee will flow, making those summer juices seem like a distant memory.
What I observed next makes my point (to a degree) that coffee is a wonderful lubricant of life.
A lady walked into the coffee shop, it’s still early… she meets with her girlfriend who has been waiting patiently (coffee part drunk). After a quick hello and apology for lateness,.. she admits that the get together was to announce the entry of new beau into her life.. (I’m guessing this isn’t the first)… She eagerly orders the coffee she’s been dieing for since she woke, and proceeds to shower her friend with details of the said beau,… coffee arrives, sip, sip,… she continues to talk… she quickly dismissed previous attempts at hetro unity, with boyz who were obviously “not the one, juvenile, unsophisticated, more boys than men..etc” and quite probably were a consequence of her lack of psychographical proximity to wisdom and nirvana she clearly has attained now.
Another sip of the coffee, girlfriend probes with interest for more details…. I lose focus now, and realise that the elation she feels now may be offset in 3 or 6 months with sorrow and dismay at how this Beau was not the one after all, and that, alone, she will sip her coffee to rationalise the incident away. That’s cool, that’s life, but what she didn’t know was that she was coffeeing with three friends, her girlfriend, and her coffee… both listened to her with pathos, as did I… bad, aren’t I?
Pete