Something about coffee dates

I am taken back to about this time last year. Before discovering the magic of a coffee shop, I opted to take my dates out at a cocktail lounge or a nice lowkey bar. One afternoon, I match with this girl called Nour who is this tall Lebanese brunette with tanned skin from Michigan of all places. Now usually, I’d propose a bar but it was on a Saturday afternoon and we opted for coffee.

So we go and the atmosphere is great in the shop located in Midtown Manhattan, almost like a ski lodge. I wait and she comes in wearing a black sweater with glasses and her hair done in a ponytail. Somehow, this went really well with her and gave her that hipster girl look. I try to mirror her body language, it was open so I hugged her and we sat down.

“So, how has your day been?” she asks.

“Not that bad, could use less rain but at least I am not slipping on ice which happens when it gets cold,” I reply.

“Oh tell me about, happened to me once,” she says.

“That sucks, almost happened to me five times now but what’s your story?” I ask.

“Happened to me when I was drunk in a January, slipped down the steps of an Insomnia that was near me and my friends could not catch me,” she said, continuing her story.

“How are you alive? That is all pavement!” I reply. For those of your unfamiliar with the city, you could walk down some blocks and to your right would be a restaurant or store but you need to walk down four or five steps to get to it, all pavement.

“I landed on my shoulder and not my head,” she said.

“Last minute save,” I reply.

“I used to play goalie,” she said.

So we banter back and forth but I just start to appreciate one thing here, I can fucking hear her instead of it feeling like a bar where we talk over each other. We both have our coffee which means that this here is a date which has bathroom breaks in it, no worries. Somehow, there is a quiet yet romantic feel to a coffee date that cocktail bars never gave me.

Around us is a mixed crowd of families, the elderly, and even some people around our age. You can tell by the guy dressed in his blue unbuttoned button up with a white undershirt and black jeans that he is ready for his date as a blonde in a cardigan comes in wearing her hipster glasses. Then my date comes back, we chat and somehow the conversations take a turn to something more sensual. We talk about our wild experiences and what we want out of life, I tell her I am spontaneous and enjoying the days of being younger.

Maybe I was never meant to be the loud party animal in these sorts of settings and I prefer a conversation but the coffee shop vibe gives a cooling effect to even the spiciest of topics. Our legs playfully touch as she smiles and laughs at something I said, I do not even know what it was since it was a while ago.

I didn’t even realize it but three hours had flown by, three fucking hours, and we were all entrenched into our conversations. Then I decide to end the date and minutes later as we are outside, we make out. We are very intimate and the beauty of NYC is everyone just sticks to their own business through it all. Date ends as she has to go her way but a week later, I go to her place and it is a done deal.

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