Tonight at Cups has been a catastrophe. I have made friends with the baristas here; well, they are kind of my friends. They tolerate me. I mean, sure I tip at least $1.00 on every $5.00 drink. Some marriages are based on money, so don’t tell me a friendship or two can’t be.
There is a running joke in my family, that my mom and I think every person we meet likes us. I think, a lot of times, I base whether I like someone or not on whether or not I think they like me. This makes me like a lot of people, because I think they like me. Now, let them mess up and act like they don’t like me; then all of a sudden, for no reason, except a little change in their energy, I start feeling more negative towards the person. The even crazier thing is, sometimes, I think I make up the change in energy. This means, I literally start liking someone less for nothing. Not only do I like them less it makes me like me less too.
Then there are times that I wish I was just being crazy and making up strange scenarios in my head. At least then, I’m not constantly replaying the ridiculous, accidental stuff I say in my head. One way, to make sure people don’t like you, and in turn, you don’t like other people is to sound like a straight-up mid-30s pervert to college age girls. That is exactly what happened tonight, and my psyche is crumbling.
When I walked into Cups, I had planned on ordering my London Fog and having a seat to write part 2 of my last story (The JailHouse Pranksters). Usually, when I come to Cups, I order at the bar, and as the barista makes my drink, I go and set-up my computer wherever I can find a table. I wish so badly I would have done that tonight. I have found the easiest way for me to control my mouth is to just not talk to people at all. This is almost impossible to me, but after tonight, I should try harder.
I love sleeping, but I have always hated going to bed for fear of missing something. Tonight, the action at the bar was too intriguing for me to step away. There were 2 baristas on duty behind the bar; and one off duty barista was standing by the bar chatting up her coworkers waiting on her drink. We will call her Jazz. I do not know Jazz; I really do not think she was prepared for this stellar opening impression. I was about to give her. There was one man who order before me standing within ear shot of me too. When he heard what I said, I am so thankful he didn’t call the police; you know, I am on probation still.
As I waited on my order, I watched as they handed Jazz her drink. It was some caramel-chocolate something. All I know, is that it had lots of chocolate syrup. So much so, that it was running all down the side of the cup. It looked beautiful and happy.
Did you know addicts have a special place in their heart and brain for chocolate, even more so than all the normies? They do; chocolate interacts with our brain’s pleasure center in a milder yet similar way as some drugs. So many compounds in chocolate produce good feelings in your brain. My favorite is probably Phenylethylamine; this is the one that results in your brain producing dopamine and serotonin. These other similar “feel good juices” are called neurotransmitters; and they help me find happiness and contentment in this cold, cold world.
One thing my crazy life has taught me, is that sometimes the line between pleasure and pain is almost non-existent. Just looking at that chocolate syrup coming down that cup made my neurons light up. She didn’t see the river of relaxation trickle down the side as she took her first drink.
I could no longer see what was in front of me. My eyes betrayed me, and I was stuck in a world of fantasy. I imagined myself grabbing the cup from her and licking the chocolate off of it. I found myself thinking, “I bet I could swipe the cup right out from her hands and lick the chocolate off the cup and hand it back to her. It won’t be that weird. They already know I’m on the verge of a padded room, how could it get get any worse? I mean, I’m surprised no-one hasn’t already jumped on it for themselves. They probably are about to try it. I gonna do it, first”
As I finished this thought, I was exactly a split-second from launching into my plan, but as Jazz brought the cup down from her lips, one of her barista friends told her to watch out for the chocolate. What was she thinking? I was about to take care of that for her; Jazz then did what I wanted to. She licked every drop of chocolate off of that thing. This made disappointed me. Once again, my heart had written my brain a check that could not be cashed.
I don’t mean to, but sometimes words leave my mouth before my brain has a chance to filter them. Usually when I do this in front of people, I am able to whisper it. This isn’t good. I still look like I am talking to myself, but at least when I whisper I don’t have to explain why I’m talking to myself in front of people. About 2 seconds after Jazz got done with her lick, 2 words slipped past my brain un-checked. These 2 words were my point of no return. I said, “Oh, well.”
I could have stopped here and everything would have been fine. They already know I struggle. They know I mean well but am a loose cannon. If I shut-up after these to words their opinion of me will change 0. Thats all I had to do. I did the exact opposite.
Instead of shutting up, instead of saying literally anything else, I said, “Oh well…ya know, you better be glad you went ahead and got that chocolate. I was about to come in the for the real thing. I was a split second from grabbing your cup and licking all that chocolate up.”
Right here, is where I started hearing myself. “Oh no!!!” I thought. There was no saving me this time. I knew I was in deep; I tried to throw myself a life vest by telling them I was making improvements by “filtering” my actions, but I was still working on my words.
I do not know Jazz at all. I still cannot tell you her name. She works mostly during hours that I’m not at Cups, and the first sentence I ever said to her was about me accosting her and licking hot fudge off her cup of Joe. Not only did I say that, but I also said that this behavior is an improvement to the guy I usually am! Oh mylanta, I need help. It was so awkward. All she said was, “That would be uncomfortable.”
Ya think? I didn’t think it could have been any less comfortable for about 3 seconds. Then, Clara, one of the baristas on duty, chimed in. I thought this was great!!!. She was about to be my hero! I just knew she was about to say something to take some of the pressure off. I’ve made her smile before; I knew Clara would remember one of those times as she got ready to administer mercy or justice. I was hopeful until we got a few words into her disposition. Clara said, “Have y’all seen that video about the marathoner who ran off the track to slap the the reporter in the butt?”
Thanks for nothing Clara!! She proceeded to tell a story about a marathon runner who went off course to slap a reporter in the butt. It may have been funny if someone who liked me was telling the story. I was already feeling uncomfortable; now she was telling a story about something that definitely sounded like sexual assault. This worried me. My words had inspired a story of sexual assault? Had my love of chocolate led me to be a verbal sexual assaulter without my knowledge? This made me feel like a freak. How could they? There was no way these girls were my friends. They didn’t like me and I couldn’t like them anymore. I needed to escape.
As I walked away to find a secret place to wait on my drink, I remembered I forgot to tip! I turned around real quick and threw a dollar in the jar. I looked up to Clara smiling at me. I smiled as I turned to walk away. Wow! It felt good to be around friends. I couldn’t believe I had inspired my friend to tell such a funny story.
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