Costa Coffee Part 2

Ivan sits outside of Costa Coffee on a picturesque end-of-summer day. Not too hot, not too cold, just right. He sips his americano with oat milk. Apparently, they haven't discovered cinnamon in England. The shipment must have been lost at sea. He cracks open his new book, For Esme, With Love and Squalor.

"Yeah, I just had to get out of the house, like, there is more to life, ya know?"
"Yeah."

He turns over his shoulder to discover two women at the table behind him. They don't make eye contact with him, their gazes fixed squarely on one another. They seem young, mid-twenties if Ivan had to guess. He tries to read again.

"This summer has just been work, work, work. I need to live life, ya know?"

Oh sure, this “living life” bullshit. People are so full of it. They are driven by one of maybe five things and yet they can't admit to themselves, much less the rest of the world, what those things are. If you work a lot, you are either driven by money or greatness. The distribution of which is like 85/15, in favor of the British pound.

"Are you still seeing that guy?"
"Yes, but like he's weird, he travels a lot."

Ah yes, we’ve arrived at the true cause of today's delicious conversation. The men. Whenever two hens are clucking about, they inevitably mention the roosters. People never grow up, nor should they. If we all grew up, life would become oh-so-boring, wouldn't it? Without boys and girls and the possibility of clucking, there is very little substance in life. At least in the sense that the substance might actually make you feel something.

"I just don't know if I can do it anymore. When he's around, it's great, and then he's gone and I'm left wondering what he's doing. I don't want to reach out and seem needy, so I just sit there...and work."

Hey, at least you felt something. I didn't give this girl enough credit. I thought I had her all figured out, but as it turns out, I too am full of shit! Life is funny that way, isn't it? Once you get to a certain age you think you know everything. Five words out of someone's mouth and you've got them all figured out. But then you talk to them, hear them out and instead of actually getting to know them better, you realize how little you actually know. For every question you answer, 5 more pop up. It’s like the hydra of emotional intelligence….

But then imagine, spending your whole life with someone. Every morning, you wake up with them, every evening, you go to bed with them. You know them, right? Better than anyone else possibly could. But even then, you simply can't predict what they are going to do. What are they really doing on that business trip to Mallorca? You will always have to wonder. And it is far worse than that, because you also miss them.

"....and I'm just like why is every guy like this?"

Ah yes, the predictability of the masses. No matter how much you know about a person, you can't predict what they're to do. But then you add that person into a group of similar individuals, and you actually get some valuable information. The lone wolf is unpredictable, but the herd is quite predictable. If a guy can be with you but also be with the hot blonde barista, he probably will. About 90% of the time. The herd of man might be the most predictable of them all. So you gotta lock that shit down, girl!

Damn, are we rooting for her? Are we going soft?

"It's such a nice day out, I think I'll just walk around till sunset."

Ah yes, walking, thinking, and enjoying daylight. What a hoax, right? Weather is such a tricky phenomenon.

The women behind Ivan get up and hit the road.

Ah well, another two ships, passing in the night. 

Ivan remains in deep thought, his mind racing in all different directions. He’s still on page one of For Esme, With Love and Squalor.