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Posts Tagged ‘starbucks’

Sometimes we all need perspective. We complain about our bad day, the traffic, the wait at the Starbucks… we curse our life. Our luck. Tonight they pulled Type Geek’s brother off of the machines. The constant transfusions that were keeping him alive, stopped. An IV drip kept him sedated and pain-free.

Meanwhile, I waited on impatient people. A Saturday night of delays, refires, wait times, and people who cursed their luck to get the table below the speaker or the beer 8 tickets deep behind 16 multi ingredient cocktails. They should thank the universe that they had the chance to wait for a table, to drink a beer or have their food refired. Someone somewhere isn’t so lucky. Someone is having their hand held as they slowly pass. Some painfully, some quietly, some alone, with no one to hold their hand and say good-bye, thank them for their friendship, their love, their existence.

We are all guilty of the complaints. Maybe for a few days, a week or even a month, we can consider that we have so much more than someone else and that getting the wrong drink from Starbucks is a small miniscule thing.

Hug the people you love. Tell them that they matter. Live your days because someone else can’t.

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I was meeting up with my ex girlfriend, the screenwriter, today for coffee when Cooper Fiennes texted me asking if I wanted to meet up and watch the Brazil-Chile match. Curious for them to meet each other, I told him to join us at my favorite cafe. She had heard about him and he, likewise. About 20 minutes later he walked in and she stumbled over herself for the first moments. She has deep-seated insecurities which makes meeting new people incredibly awkward for her.  He excused himself for the restroom and she was able to express her “oh my god”s and “holy shit”s regarding her impression of him. Once he arrived back at the table she was able to relax and speak comfortably with him.

Prior to C.F. , Screenwriter Girl had the best body of anyone I had been with. Unfortunately, her reasons behind the pristine physique were resulting from serious childhood sexual abuse trauma. A need to feel physically strong, since she is an emotional cripple. I care about her, but how do I say this? I was NEVER in love with her. She needed too much rescuing and I was already lost.  C.F.actually commented later on this. He said that there was something in her eyes that showed her traumas to the world. Even after she has gained physical strength, she has been unable to feel safe and heal. Her body is not a tool for fun and sport, as it is with C.F., this is their difference. Cooper Fiennes relishes sport of all types for how alive it makes him feel. The more his body aches, the more he pushes and challenges himself, the more alive and vibrant he feels. It’s incredibly sexy. Screenwriter Girl is trapped in her body, Cooper Fiennes uses his as an instrument of freedom.

I realized that the match had begun nearly twenty minutes prior and we really needed to get out the door and find a pub close by with food and the game. It was destined to be a good game, both teams are historically strong players with great coaches, so it could go either way. We left the cafe and said cheers to Screenwriter Girl and headed down the street. The Irish pub around the corner had air conditioning (THANK GOD!) and we found a seat right below the flat screen. 0-0 with a half hour in. We ordered some ciders, some food, and settled in. He pulled my stool closer to his and proceeded to act like a 14-year-old boy the entire match. You know, the “I poke you cause I like you” game? I love that he actually explains certain aspects of the game to me, things such as why there is a difference in the calls made by the English refs versus Spanish refs, what constitutes a yellow card or a foul, etc. He does it without my asking. While I have always liked International Football, I have watched it without knowing much about the game besides the obvious: ball goes into net equals goal. Dating C.F. has MANY benefits, apparently!!!

Brazil squashed Chile 3-0. It was a great game, but Chile could have played stronger. Not wanting to brave the heat, which was still nearly 35 degrees celsius/ 94 degrees farenheit , we had the waitress switch on Wimbledon for twenty minutes. Roddick had his ass handed to him by Yen-Hsun Lu and Capriati was rushed to the hospital for an accidental overdose. Between Capriati’s issues and Aggasi having been a meth user, who knew that Tennis could be so full of illicit behaviors?! It always seemed more refined some how. I guess when Tiger has a harem, Agassi smokes the pipe and Capriati abuses prescription pills, there is no such thing as refined sports anymore. Public figures are public figures and they all are susceptible to demons that fame can bring.

We wandered out, immediately wilted in the heat and decided to grab some ice cream for the stroll back to the train station. On the way he poked me no less than 30 times, and we stopped in 5 stores with air conditioning just to cool off for a few moments. We grabbed one more iced tea at Starbucks and sat chatting before parting ways on the street.

Meanwhile, I have been starting my period all day and annoyed that I couldn’t get a piece of ass if I begged. I’ve decided that hard to get is my new alter ego. If either of these boys want booty, they gotta work for it and jump through hoops, cause I’m not gonna be so easy anymore, damn it. Sigh, even if it means that I end up so sexually frustrated that I develop carpal tunnel from masturbating.

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The last few days have been rather interesting. If you have been reading chronologically, you already know that I finally got laid. Well, Mr. Bratty McLawyer is worse than any goddamn lesbian I ever dated. We had sex Wednesday night, Thursday I had errands and at one point he texted me and asked what I was doing, I explained that I was at a specialty grocery store. Now, just because this store is in his neighborhood, does NOT mean he should come and surprise me. Maybe he was so enamored by our mutual lack of orgasms that he needed to see me again, less than 12 hours from when he dropped me off at my home. So, he surprised me by turning a corner and appearing. Cute-ish, I guess. Now, the next day, I spent several hours consoling my ex girlfriend who is in an AWFUL relationship. After such an exhausting conversation with her there was a great need for a relaxing bath and the huge macaroon I had bought the night before. Stripped down, I stepped in. Within 45 seconds of settling into the tub and shoving a huge piece of the macaroon into my mouth, a text message came through.  Bratty McL was checking in, wondering what I was doing. Just stepped into a nice relaxing hot bath I replied. What are YOU doing, I asked back. His response aggravated the living hell out of me. “About to join you in the bath” he replied. Umm, wtf? Huh? THEN my buzzer rang. Are you fucking kidding me? Who comes over without an invitation?! I ended up getting out of the tub, dressing, and walking over to a local bar for a cocktail. Now, aside from the fact that he showed up uninvited, and pulled me from a relaxing soak, when the bill came, he had me chip in for my one cocktail.  Hmm, you think you might be able to buy me an $8 cocktail when you inconvenience me? Maybe? Grrr. Finally I get to go home…alone. Hours late, and not in the mood, he shows up on-line and starts instant messaging me. I had considered going out to a huge arts event that night, but after feeling run down and bombarded by other peoples psychic drama, the idea of a large group of strangers was less than appealing. I was bored though, so I strolled the online sites and found a deadly handsome man, who had just relocated from Barcelona, to chat with. He looked like a cross between Bradley Cooper and Ralph Fiennes and was utterly charming. As Mr. Cooper Fiennes and I were discussing meeting up the following day, I was trying to end my chat with Bratty McLawyer. I told him I was going to bed, he then asked to call me, so that he could say hear me say goodnight. Ugh, GAG. I told him that my phone was charging in the other room and that I was unable to call him at the moment, so a virtual goodnight would have to do. I could hear his whining tone in the way he typed his disappointed, “fine, okay, goodnight then.”  He is needy AND annoying. The self-righteous and condescending attitude hasn’t disappeared. After knowing that I love trip hop AND that I have numerous friends who are DJ’s, he suggested that surely I don’t really like DJ’s, since I appreciate serious musicians like Pat Methany? I must be joking.  Ok, now you must go away. Really?! So, electronic music ISN’T music now?! Really? Goodnight Bratty.

The next day I had an appointment across the river. I texted Cooper Fiennes to let him know that I would be out of my meeting by 2:30, if he was interested in grabbing a coffee then. The weather was amazing and the idea of great conversation on a patio with an attractive man was splendid. We met outside Starbucks. First impression in person… even sexier than he looks on-line. He is working in medicine, plays music, has great taste in music, including electronic acts, is stunning…with the type of bone structure that takes your breath away. So HOT. Always a pleasant surprise when the date is hotter than their pictures, especially when their pics are already pretty goddamn good! We walked around, laughed, talked music, talked business…both his and mine, talked art and his soon to be ex-wife. Amicable split, still good friends. Is he looking for love? Not particularly. He is in town for a residency fellowship and, in 6 months, he may move back to Spain. Hot summer fling with a sexy guy from Barcelona until then? Why the hell not?! We spent 4 hours together and I suddenly realized it was 6 pm. I was supposed to be back in the same neighborhood at 8 for my drinks and movie with Type Geek. I had to get home, wax, walk and feed the dog, change and get back to the same place I was at that very moment…in 2 hours. I bid adieu to Cooper Fiennes and hustled home.

I realized upon arriving home that not only did I NOT have enough time to wax, but that even if I did… my skin wouldn’t be relaxed anytime that evening. So, my “Just in case we end up making out hot and heavy” wax turned into a bathtub soak and …shudder…. shave. EEEK. I made it out the door and back to meet Type Geek around 8:15. Not too bad! Now, Type Geek has been rather shy with me. Interested, I have presumed, but shy. Not very physically aggressive. Granted, I haven’t been fully falling at his feet, but I have been leaving him openings. On our last date, I finally kissed him. I then told him that he didn’t need to wait for me to kiss him next time. He promised he wouldn’t. So, I was curious what would happen this evening.

He popped the wine and began making some snacks for us. We sat and chatted at the kitchen table, drinking wine, listening to music, occasionally googling something that came up in conversation…but never discussing the movie. I touched his arm or back or chest or head…several times, no moves. Sigh. Ok. FINE. Hours ticked by. We scrolled his iTunes library and laughed at some of the old school tunes he had, like stuff from Anthrax, whom I loved as a teenager. I’m standing 5 inches away from him. Is he just interested in me as a friend? If so, that’s fine… but what is going on here? At 1:5o am, roughly 5.5 hours since he picked me up at the train, I consider that all hope is lost. I resign myself to this. We joke about his unmanly amounts of shoes and he tells me of a pair that are so ghastly, his friends ridiculed him the only 2 times he wore them, so now, they live in the closet. I asked to see them and he retreated to the bedroom closet to find them. A minute goes by and I followed after. I climbed onto the bed and started petting his cat while he dug out the shoes. When they appeared, I agreed with the response of his friends. Just then, his cat runs off. I stay sprawled out on the bed. I am tired and the bed is really cozy… there is not incentive to leave. We keep chatting and then he begins picking cat hair off my shirt. In my mind I think, yeah, friends. He is picking cat hair off my shirt…not kissing me and here I am laying on his bed. 5 minutes of cat hair picking and he finally decides to kiss me. Bravo Type Geek!

He doesn’t stop at kissing me though… and I decide to go with it. He’s a really nice guy and a great kisser so I decide to ignore the physical road blocks I do have and just enjoy whatever is going to happen. Is he shooting for 2nd or 3rd base tonight? Within a half hour, I am mostly nude. Within an hour, I am singing the praises of all the great things he can do with his mouth and within an hour and a half… I am having sex again. Whoa. nothing for 6 months and then….2 men in 4 days?! EEEK! Ok, feeling a LITTLE trashy, but I will get over it. Especially since McBratty Lawyer is NOT getting anymore sex from me. The sun is coming up when we finish and we sleep for a few hours. His cat wakes me up by burrowing into the back of my thighs and overheating me from the sheer amount of warmth coming off its furry little body. Half awake but sleepy, I shuffle away from the cat and cozied into Type Geek’s chest, absent-mindedly petting his bare skin with my free hand as I laid there. Eventually the petting became mutual, and less absent-minded. After 2 hours of lazy but intense foreplay we went for a 2nd go around. Sunday morning sex truly is great, not having to get up and be anywhere, laying in bed naked for hours afterwards… what a relaxing way to spend a morning. We finally gave in and got out of bed. I needed to get home to my pooch and we both desperately needed some coffee so we got dressed, ran to the Whole Foods, grabbed some coffee and then he gave me a ride home before venturing out for his afternoon bike ride with friends.

I honestly did not think that Type Geek would come through last night. I especially did NOT think he would venture towards sex, since we hadn’t even had a hot and heavy frustrating make out session yet. Above both of those however, I had never considered that HE would be so good in bed or that I would go to bed with him since there were a couple things I was on the fence about with him. Well, damn, if you can push my buttons and get me to curl up in a ball and laugh out loud, you have done a fine job. Type Geek had me laughing my ass off. He done good.

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