Slacking

One afternoon a few years ago I was working at a drive-thu espresso stand. I was either manning the stand on my own this afternoon, or my co-worker was otherwise occupied when a car pulled up to my window. Inside were two young women who if not my type per-se definitely had this post-punk hipster-chic vibe going on which tends to catch my attention.

Sensing an opportunity to impress attractive women my mouth said something
clever along the lines of
“Welcome to Jamm’n Java how are you doing this afternoon?”
Yeah, I’ve got mad skillz with the ladies.
So I’m doing the whole customer service thing when the girl in the passenger seat says
“OMG! I love your shirt!”
or something along those lines and then I notice she has on a shirt from the same website that I had been coveting, but had not yet purchased. We gushed for a while about cool t-shirts and she was definitely flirting with me.

This is the shirt by the way, I wanted it and now I have it.

After a bit I turn to make their two iced caramel lattes, I’m about to get started when I realized that I had forgotten to ask them whether they wanted the Carmel sauce or the Carmel syrup! So many people insist on the sauce even though it costs more and doesn’t blend as well, but to each their own

So, I turn to inquire, and the two of them are full on making out. Not ten seconds after I finished talking to them and they are frenching like the world is about to end. hands in each-other’s hair, the whole big thing.

Like this but more exhibitionist.

Now, you should know that I am first and for most a professional, I did my very best not to stand there grinning like an idiot. I’m not really one of those guys who is all about lesbians, but still, it was an appealing scene.

Eventually they came up for air long enough for me to clarify their order. I made the coffee, now subdued by the fact that the cute girl wasn’t flirting with me. Of course part of my brain was trying to claim she was and they wanted to make a baristo sandwich out of me, but that’s neither here nor there.

They payed and pulled their car forward, but stayed in my driveway making out for several minutes, while I focused on cleaning my bar and thinking about baseball.

A few Weeks come and go and I pick up a shift covering at another location. I’m going to be there by myself, but I get to work early professional! and have some overlap with the gal whose shift is ending.

Tattoos, nose ring, dyed hair, I don’t know why these things are appealing to me, they do not seem to come attached to the type of person I could have a
meaningful relationship with, but this barista had them all and was, to me, quite fetching.

I think there is a defiance in punk rock looking girls, they won’t let anyone tell them what to do, so I think maybe they want to tell me what to do.

She wasn’t flirty, but we made decent conversation, work, school, *blah blah blah.* I asked what she was studying, and she said women’s studies. Shortly
after that, she said that she was in fact a lesbian! in response to what I cannot remember, but women’s studies, c’mon. Now, my famous skill with the women came into play again and the first thing out of my mouth was, “I have a funny story about lesbians!” or something to that extent.

She wasn’t offended by the fact that I immediately wanted to share my lesbian story. or at least she didn’t seem offended, a clever reader might have noticed by now that when it comes to attractive women all my intuition takes flying leap out the nearest window.

She listened politely and then said,  “Oh, yeah, that sounds like so-and-so, I’m always telling them to knock that out. No one want to see them going at it.” on this point I did not correct her.

There is no real exciting ending to this story, although not long ago a semi-regular customer was talking about his man-hating-lesbian roommate and of course it turn out to be the gal I had worked with. Apparently there are very few lesbians in my city, and I am attracted to all of them.