I have the Drama Teacher’s phone number on my phone: He texted me the evening of The Child’s tantrum. I re-read the text, replay our conversations, and wonder why someone not only noticed I was the author of a Yelp review for a random coffee shop of no particular note in a city plagued with coffee shops, but actually remembered the details of the text.
I begin to stop there more often, sometimes to meet a friend for coffee and hear about her online dating adventures, other times to pick up a cup to go, when I’m on my way to or from the supermarket I don’t especially like that happens to be across the street.
I go to another coffee shop with a different friend, who works in the local public school, and ask what she thinks, and she’s firm: It’s frowned on.
I talk to my chatty coworker – the one who I’d never go to for professional advice – and she says, text him. Invite him to check out the coffee place with you. It’s spring break, live a little.
Validated, I spend an hour composing a text: If you are around this week, would you like to check out that coffee place that I reviewed on Yelp?
An hour later, the reply arrives: Hey You! I’m in Los Angeles this week. Thanks for the thought! There’s a smileyface before the last statement, something I’m not sure I’ve ever seen in a text from a man before.
It’s a great reply, says my coworker. Now ask him to tell you a date he is free.
But I remember all the reasons I never ask her for professional advice, and simply say, Another time! Enjoy your trip, but receive no reply.