Anya's Diary:
"Let's meet for a Coffee"

written by Anya

Anya is the quintessential girl next door - in search for real human experiences, emotional connections and yes, even love. This is her diary where she reaches out to you. You are no longer alone. Her diary is a place where experiences are shared and the reasons behind connections and disconnections are explored. When she shares her stories, you may feel just a little more understanding, a little more compassion and a whole lot of "Nooo waaay man, that didn't REALLY happen!" You know you know what she's talking about! ;)

It's fair to say that 2007 has begun. I rang in the new year with a new attitude. Dating, I thought, pshaww… I can do that. After all, there's a brand new deck of 52 Saturdays to play with. I got right on that mission and set up a date through an online dating service for the first Saturday of the new year.

My date and I exchanged a couple of emails, arranged for a coffee date, and I woke up one Saturday morning, and drove myself to the targeted Starbucks. I was early, so had time to check myself out in the long mirrors affixed to the walls of Chapters. I was being secret so that no one would see me doing it. Did I have too much lipgloss on for daytime? Were the ends of my hair looking dry? Oh, never mind, I looked great! I waited for my date, intermittently looking at the digital clock display on my phone, and at the Starbucks patrons.

There was a man there, who looked as though, he too, was waiting for someone. We made eye contact.
"Oh damn it," I thought.
He was wearing a business suit on a Saturday at 11:00am, and here I was worried about too much lipgloss for the daytime. But, both of us looked away. He didn't say anything and neither did I.

I figured my date would know who I was because I had sent him a picture of myself via email. Having asked for one in return - and, having not received one, I wasn't too worried because at least one of us knew what the other looked like. Time ticked on. I had been waiting for a while now, and my insecurities began to surface. 'Was the picture that I had sent him ugly?' 'Was I ugly?' 'Did that picture make me look fat?' 'Did he not like my smile?' My inner voice was beginning to go down the familiar rode of self-criticism, when I thought, 'Hey wait a minute… he set up the date AFTER receiving my picture, so he must have liked the way I looked.' Feeling immediately better about my shallow self, yet having just justified myself to myself, I felt worse about my true self. What was I still doing there anyway?

So, I waited some more, and having been a Starbucks virgin up until then, I called my sister long-distance,
"Hi Nicki…ummm…. I'm in a bit of a predicament."
"Hey girlie. Why? What's up?"
"Well, I'm here waiting at Starbucks for a blind date. He hasn't shown up yet, he's already about 10 minutes late, and I want to drink a coffee. But, I don't know what these words on this Starbucks menu mean. Can you help?"
"Oh, sure - no problem. You need to order a "tall mild," she says with zero hesitation.
"A tall mild?"
"Yep, a tall mild"
"I just go and say, a tall mild, please?" I confirm.
"Yep."
"Okay, stay on the phone with me until I do it, okay?" I ask. Just like a kid sister would.
"Okay", she says. Just like big sisters do.
So, I go up to the All-Knowing Coffee Guy, pretending like I know what I'm doing and say,
"A tall, mild, please."
"Tall mild?" he asks, flamboyantly.
"Tall, mild" I repeat, a bit more hesitantly, but with my ear still to my cell phone so my sister can hear.
"Don't worry," I hear her whisper, "You're doing great!"
I look at the grandiose Starbucks guy and he is looking at the cash register. He punches in whatever he does, looks up and without any warning, yells "TALL MILD AT THE BAR, PLEASE!"
Startled, I begin to back away. Then he looks at me, and says (in an indoor voice),
"That'll be $2.00 please."
Disoriented, I fumble for my toonie, give it to him, and am quickly ushered away to "the bar" by the rush of people behind me, where my tall mild awaited. Like all cool, big sisters everywhere, my sister says,
"See... you did great."

I get my coffee, sit down, and still no single looking man has arrived yet. My sister, still on the phone with me asks,
"So, are you enjoying it?"
"I've waited 20 minutes, so I don't have to wait anymore, right?" I ask her.
"Oh my God, you're not still waiting for him are you? NO, NO, NO, you are enjoying your first ever Tall Mild coffee, girlie. Sip it, taste it, feel the warmth, and let it take you away. And then when you are done with your coffee experience, get up and leave."
"So I shouldn't wait for him anymore?" I ask.
"You are already NOT waiting for him," she explained, "Go now, enjoy your coffee beautiful girl, and call me later. I gotta go for a run."
"Okay, thanks." I say, and hang up.

Without my sister holding my hand anymore, I took one last look around Starbucks. The single guy in the suit who looked like he was waiting for someone, now, had company. The yummy mummy's and daddy's sat drinking their mochachino lattes - or double chai tazo frappachino caramels - with their young lying beside them in strollers that had bigger tires than my car. A sexy young couple at the counter ordered their coffees, while the boyfriend squeezed his girlfriend's ass, tenderly.

I took a deep breath, inhaled the over-priced aroma of commercialized coffee beans, took another sip of Tall Mild, and realized the truth.
"I've just been stood up," I smiled to myself. "Welcome to 2007, Anya. It's gonna be a good one."