What is it about latte art that just destroys my masculinity?
Chad and I are hanging out at the coffee shop. I’m chatting with a girl when Chad walks up with a rather sad looking latte.
Chad: “What’s with this?”
Me: “That doesn’t look too good. Who made that?”
Chad: [Points to the barista at the bar.]
Me: “That’s weird. She’s usually good. Oh well, nobody bats a hundred.”
Chad: [Starts to say something, thinks better of it.]
…
Chad, several hours later: “I do appreciate the effort, but just so you know, you should probably avoid trying to use sports metaphors in front of women.”
Me: “Damn it!”
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Cute, flirty female customer: “I love the way you pour the designs into the drinks.”
Me: “Thanks.”
Her: “I’ve been trying to do that at home, but I can’t get the hang of it. What do you do, just steam the milk a whole lot?”
Me: “Well, yeah. But the really important thing is that you get the milk to recirculate over itself, really working the air into it. You know, like you’re making meringue.”
*** crickets ***
Her: [Ooh, he's gay.]
Me: [Damn it!]
Me: “So, um, have a good day.”
Her: “Yeah, you too.”
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by Jacob on October 20, 2004
Actual dialogue between me and cute female Kerry supporter in Clarendon today:
Her: [Winks as I approach the corner.]
Me: [Smiles back.]
Her: [Now crossing street with me.] I don’t normally ask this to people crossing the street, but I could tell a mile away that you’d like to help defeat Bush.
Me: I would, actually, but not so much by voting for Kerry.
Her: Oh, you’re a Nader supporter.
Me: No, no, I’m a libertarian, but our guy’s a kook this year.
Her: You’re just like my dad.
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Actual conversation with the girl at the table next to me at Common Grounds today…
Her: “Could you tell me the time again?”
Me: “Sure, no problem.”
*awkward silence*
Her, repeating: “Could you tell me the time?”
Me: “Oh, you mean now.”
There are a few things I could say in my defense, but I think I’ll just leave it at that.
In other news, today was my first day on the job. And you know what I found on my desk? A one pound box of rubber bands. Associates from my previous internship know that this is a bad, bad, very bad idea.
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Jacob Grier is a freelance writer, barista, mixologist, and magician in Portland, OR. He writes, eats, and drinks a lot. His articles have appeared in The Washington Post, Reason Online, The Oregonian, and other publications.
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