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People shuffle in, waiting in a wavy line to order a drink.

Like a well trained robot the workers turn out cup after cup of coffee

What’s the bathroom code?

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A long blonde finished with yoga gets a latte.

A cab driver with a Bluetooth headset gets a Pikes Roast

A Chinese girl struggles to order tea.

No Hello.

No Small talk.

And only one inevitable question, with a four number answer.

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A homeless man cuts in front of a teen in Daisy Dukes. He demands water as his trash bag knocks into the girl’s Kate Spade. The workers give him the cup and before he opens his mouth they say

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James the Manager of this Starbucks has a Master Degree From Columbia.

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Sarah, making the Green Tea Latte, has done Modeling for Target.

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Jade, taking the orders, has another day job to pay for her daughters private school.

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They’ve said the numbers so many times, the feeling is completely sucked out.

I asked if they’ve ever thought about putting a sign up.

They all gave me a confused look, and went back to working.

The Application

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I’m currently accepting applications for someone who loses track of time when joking around with me. Someone who shows up at the bar when I’m two Moscow Mules deep and instantly tells me about her day. Someone who mentions that she had good intentions of heading to the gym to work out today but instead just showered. Someone who laughs when I joke and mimic that she just washed her thick Italian hair over and over for two hours, almost making her late for work. Someone who takes the joke further by saying it’s all baby steps towards getting healthy and next week she’ll actually get a drink at the gym water fountain before heading to the showers. Someone who laughs so hard she snorts unexpectedly making me laugh harder.

I’m currently accepting applications for someone who storms off after an argument about me flirting with another girl. Someone who gets so frustrated, she moves in with her friend, Sasha. Someone who sips wine and makes jokes all night about how small my dick is. About how they never really liked me anyways. And about how she ‘settled’ for me because her ex moved away and she regrets not going with him. Someone who finally takes Sasha’s advice and heads out to the club wearing her favorite Orange dress that somehow fits. Someone who meets a charming guy that’s tall, witty, and successful. They connect on a deep level and he takes her to his place. Someone who texts me out of spite saying “I’ve already replaced your loser ass!” at 2:23am. Someone who fucks this guy and is still satisfied in the morning. Someone who gets a ride back to Sasha’s and hears Amy Winehouse sing over the E-class Bose speakers, reminding her of how I learned “Valerie” on my guitar when her mother passed away.  Someone who tells the guy they had a nice time. Someone who half way to the door breaks down crying on the street, and texts me, “I’m sorry”.

I’m currently accepting applications for someone who doesn’t want kids. Someone that understands that even though both of us would be awesome parents, it’s just not in the cards for me because I have too many dreams to chase. Someone who gets pissed at me for throwing every dollar towards a goal. Someone who throws a vase at my head when the financial shit hits the fan. Someone who screams every night at me when we sleep out of our two door Honda Civic dx parked behind Walmart and takes turns sleeping and watching out for employees trying to kick us out. Someone who dances with me in the heat in our new apartment when my hard work starts paying off. And a year later sips champagne with me at a fancy party, wearing a stunning red dress, and joins me in telling everyone “remember when” stories.

I’m currently accepting applications for someone who enjoys the spontaneousness of attraction. Someone who doesn’t mind shopping for paint at home depot and catching a gleam in my eye when I joke about the color ‘passion fruit red’. Someone who takes my hand and sneaks in the back by the patio furniture. Someone who tries her damnedest to hold back her moans as I jam my throbbing member in her at a repetitive rate. Someone who breaths extremely heavy at sound of incoming footsteps and kicks out during the climax, knocking over several boxes. Someone who laughs as she puts herself back together because I’m tell the worker about how it’s impossible to find the right outdoor plastic table due to the disorganization of this store.

But I’ll be honest, I’ve been accepting applications for a while now, and not many make it past the grueling the interview process.

The Christmas List

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I looked at the email from my sister. “Hey Darbs! We’re about to go out shopping for Christmas, is there something specific that you want?”

I started typing but was interrupted by the door ring. I always wanted to know what was coming through the door. Something I picked up from my army buddy.

HOLY SHIT!

My heart stopped. A strange occurrence considering the amount of caffeine pumping through my veins. I resisted the urge to rub my eyes. Now is not the type to look like a chump. That was the exact look of what I wanted. Tall, well accessorized with the whiff of effortlessness that everyone knows is bullshit, and thick enough below the waist with some love handle to give something to reach for at the gym. The only flaw being a blonde. But you can’t win them all.

I’m glad the baseline checks out but let’s be honest,  she’s probably a bitch. Fucking Guaranteed. It’s always too good to be true. “Hey welcome to Starbucks! Can I get something started for you?” My ears perked up. How you treat the staff is a reflection of your self worth. Probably one of those who’s got a chip on her shoulder from having a weird facial deformity that straightened out years later. Those types are always out for revenge. It’s not enough to be wanted by every guy, they want to have 1000 year old hymns written and sang from the peaks of the Himalayas because that’s how to cure a fucked up childhood. Everyone knows that.

“You know what? Honestly, I don’t know what I want. I’m sorry, I came in here knowing what I wanted but had a change of heart. I hate when that happens.” She turned to the lady behind her. “You can go ahead of me if you want.”

Fuck. She’s metaphysically hilarious and nice. What are the fucking odds. Situational humor is like,  my fucking go to. I literally said that exact thing not 20 minutes ago to a different Barista. It’s rare to see someone who’s comfortable enough to unfilter their thoughts to random strangers. Even more rare for a woman who’s oozing sexuality to do it. They can’t. Guys will become to comfortable, which makes it hard to get rid of them. She needs something to deter the average chumps. This is why Resting Bitch face became a thing.

She walked over to the counter right in front of me. Alright Darby. This is it. You’re interesting, slightly hungover, find humor in everything, made a payment on your oil leaking 2005 Civc, and had 7 people like a short story that you wrote really fast on your new blog. Basically you’re better than every male in the great state of Texas. Walk over there and mutter the first thing that pops in your head. Just then she dropped a packet of Splenda and bent over over to pick it up right in front of me. The perfect apple stared me in the face. Fuck. I could hear a church choir’s angelic harmony singing “Hallelujah” like they were sick of closed pearly gates. I began foaming at the mouth. A small dribble of saliva scraped across my unconnected 5 o’clock shadow.

SSLLLLLLUUUUURRRRRRRRPPPPPPP

I used the human pump to force the lubrication back to in it’s reservoir. I glared back. The Gazelle stared back at me. Our eyes locked and I felt the same parallelizing excitement the entrance. Fuck the Nintendo 64 kid. That’s what I wanted! Shit that’s what I deserved! I have dated women in all areas of the US. I’ve went through more catastrophically embarrassing dates that would make most men’s testicles shrivel into raisins. No more of these damaged internet souls. No more lining up endless date after date, hearing how great of a profile I wrote. How I have actual personality. How I’m not trying to impress them. How I am generally interested in who they are and why they are the way they are. What happened during their childhood? What problems are they facing now? How I can help them break out of the prison they’ve built in their mind? But it becomes exhausting. They always want more. This is what happens when you upset the natural yin and yang of relationships. The well always dries up when isolated.

She went back to her normal position, unphased by the audience. A real pro of beauty. I couldn’t stop staring. Throw me in jail for looking, I don’t give a shit. She emptied the packet into her coffee and walked out the door.

I went back to typing,

“Socks I guess…”